


It Takes a University to Raise a Child

by autisticblueteam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Agender Character, Agender Locus, Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, Autistic Character, Autistic Character(s), Demisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Non-Verbal Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Past Trans Pregnancy, Trans Male Character, Trans Tucker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-14 15:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticblueteam/pseuds/autisticblueteam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University, the next big step in many young people’s lives. Studying; exams; new friends; polyamorous relationships; secret children; the odd random encounter that somehow leads to an unlikely friendship or two − or is some of that just these guys?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing... University Life

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so here is a very, very self-indulgent university AU that buddahthebob and I have been talking about for the past few days! This is just a basic introductory chapter, which gets in most of the characters in some form or another minus a few who just didn’t fit yet. Not sure when the next chapter will be, or what it’ll be, yet as I have other stuff to work on and uni work too, but I wanted to get the first chapter done! 
> 
> (there are definitely going to be tags added as I go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daily ‘studying cuddle pile’ is convening in Wash’s room, and, as usual, this means Wash isn’t getting any work done. At all. It’s a bit of a problem, if he’s honest.

“Hey Wash. What essay are you doing?”

“…The essay on if Public Archives are going to become obsolete.”

“Isn’t that the essay you said was due on the fourteenth? As in, tomorrow?”

“…It might be.”

“Oh my god. Wash has left _another_ essay until the day before!”

David Washington huffed, nudging his boyfriend’s head with his foot, “Don’t make me push you off of my bed, Tucker. You know I will. You’re lying on my legs, it would be simple enough.”

The brunette sitting with his head on Wash’s shoulder nodded, “Wash is right Tucker. He will. I will help.”

Tucker gasped dramatically, “I’m being ganged up on! And by my own boyfriends!”

“Datefriends.”

“Shit, yeah. And by my own datefriends!” He said, this time throwing his arm over his eyes for extra dramatic effect, “I’m so unloved.”

“You’re not making me any less convinced to kick you off the bed, honestly,” Wash said, though he was smiling. Tucker peeked out from under his arm just enough to give him a glare, and Wash laughed before returning to his typing, “Besides, don’t you have any work to be doing?”

“Uh, nope. I actually got my work done in _advance_ , mister last minute,” Tucker said, folding his arms behind his head and grinning, “Which you’d know if you’d been paying attention to what I said earlier, you fuck.”

Wash sighed, “Yeah, yeah I know.”

“People always assume you’re the responsible student in this relationship, and yet I’ve got my work done a whole fucking week in advance and you’re always doing it the night before! Which might have something to do with stereotypes but y’know. Still kinda funny,” Tucker said, kicking one leg up to rest on the knee of the other.

“Oh shut up.”

Tucker just grinned at him, then turned to Caboose, “What’re you doing Mikey?”

“Reading!” Caboose said, holding up his book, “It is not for work though. I have already finished my work too.”

“…Am I seriously the only one doing work? _Seriously_?” Wash said, sighing and slumping his head back against the wall behind him with a dull thud, “Ah fuck.”

“It’s gotta be up on turnitin for like twelve too, hasn’t it? Oh ho ho, I’m no fucking psychic but I see an all-nighter in David Washington’s future,” Tucker said, grinning at him and nudging his leg with his elbow.

Wash made an effort not to look up from his laptop, “Okay, I’m going to kick you off the bed now.”

“Wait n- _oh_ _shit_!”

There was a loud bang as Tucker toppled off of the bed onto the floor, followed by a groan. Wash found himself making a conscious effort not to laugh, biting his lip so as not to grin, and keeping his eyes on his laptop screen. Caboose, however, didn’t have the same restraint and started to laugh his usual exaggerated laugh. Tucker sat himself up and huffed, blowing one of his dreads off his face, and pulling a pout that Caboose himself would be proud of.

“Fuck you. I landed on my face!” He whined, rubbing his nose. Wash still didn’t look up, so Tucker repeated himself with a little more emphasis, “On my fucking _face_ , dude.”

“What do you want me to do about it, Tucker? Kiss it better?”

Tucker shrugged, nodding his head from shoulder to shoulder, “Wellll…”

Wash sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing the top of his laptop part way down, “Come here.”

Tucker’s face split into a grin and he was on his feet in an instant, walking up to Wash and kissing him. Wash hooked a hand around the back of his head, whilst Tucker braced one hand on the wall behind him, and relaxed into the kiss. Tucker was as eager as ever, and Wash felt a warmth in his chest. His focus was taken completely by the kiss; at least, it was, until Tucker’s attention shifted from his lips to his neck. At that his cheeks went red and he tensed slightly.

“Tucker. I do have work to do.”

“Boring,” Tucker pouted, kissing his cheek instead and mussing up his hair. Wash scrunched up his face, the tenseness fading away, “You pull such a cute fucking face whenever someone does that.”

“Hey!” Caboose said, putting his book down to cross his arms and pull the poutiest face he could muster, “Don’t I get a kisses?”

Tucker chuckled, leaning over Wash’s with a knee in his lap and a hand on his keyboard, “Course you do.”

Caboose beamed, and Tucker kissed him. Caboose leant into the contact, and bounced a little where he sat.

Wash couldn’t help but smile at them, even though Tucker’s knee in his leg _really fucking hurt_ and there were definitely a bunch of jumbled letters added onto the end of his essay. Goddammit, Tucker.

When they pulled apart Caboose was still beaming and he was full on bouncing where he sat, his hands flapping at waist level. Tucker chuckled, kissing his cheeks and then shifting back from his ungraceful position leant over Wash.

“Heh, sorry dude,” He said, though only upon seeing the mess of letters on Wash’s screen, “Kinda can never deny him.”

Wash just rolled his eyes and smiled, messing up Tucker’s hair and fixing up his work. Tucker chuckled, clambering back down the bed to lay over his legs again, thus returning them to their usual arrangement that Caboose had deemed the ‘studying cuddle pile’ a couple of weeks ago. The studying cuddle pile was a phenomenon usually found in Wash’s accommodation, as it had the largest bed out of his room and Caboose’s room. And he had snacks at easy access; that probably helped too.

“How many words you on?” Tucker asked after a long, comfortable pause. His eyes were closed now, and he was more than relaxed laying with his head on Wash’s legs again. Even when Caboose occasionally bopped him in the side of the head with his foot – by accident or on purpose, they were never sure.

Wash sighed, “About a thousand? So… Another one thousand five hundred to go.”

“Ouch, dude. And on such a boring fucking topic too.”

“I mean… it’s not _that_ boring,” Wash said, shrugging a little. Tucker opened one eye to give him a look, “…Okay yes, yes it is. It’s extremely boring and I hate it, but unfortunately looking at what history as a discipline is, is one of my core modules this year. I don’t really have a choice.”

“Sucks for you.”

“Yes, yes it does suck for me.”

“I could suck for you. Bow chicka bow wow!”

“Do _not_ make me kick you off the bed again, Tucker.”

“I will still help,” Caboose added, peeping over his book with a grin. Tucker stuck his tongue out at him, and his stuck his out right back. And then went straight back to reading his book, without putting his tongue away.

Tucker shook his head, looking back to Wash, “But seriously dude, that fucking sucks. Do you need to like call that mentor-y dude or something?”

“No, Maine is more of a personal mentor that a study mentor,” Wash said, not looking away from his essay and without stopping typing, “And even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to call them up at this time of night.”

“…What time is it?”

Wash glanced at the corner of his screen, “About eight.”

“Shit!” Tucker shot up, nearly falling off the bed, “I gotta go. Like, now.”

“Oh right, sorry. I should have reminded you of the time sooner,” Wash said, leaning into the kiss that Tucker gave him a moment later and leaning out of the way so he could give Caboose the same, “Sorry Tucker.”

“It’s fine, its fine,” He said, mussing up his hair and grabbing his stuff, “I do really have to get going though.”

“I do not like that you have to go,” Caboose said, a pout on his face, “I wish you didn’t live far away.”

“It’s not that far buddy,” Tucker tugged on his jacket, hopping on the spot to pull on a shoe at the same time, “And I spend all the time I can up here, but I gotta go home sometimes.”

“I know. It is still sad when you have to go.”

Tucker ran around to his side of the bed to give him another kiss, “I know. I’ll see you both tomorrow though, ‘kay? I’m expecting a Wash running on coffee but with a finished essay. Don’t disappoint, you fuck.”

Wash chuckled, “I doubt I will. Bye Tucker, have a safe drive home and text us when you get back, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, you worrying fuck,” He kissed Wash’s cheek, mussing up his hair even more and grabbing his bag, “Bye guys!”

Caboose called another goodbye as he left, closing the door to Wash’s room behind him. He gave an awkward wave to the group of other students sat in the hallway, practically playing hopscotch to get past their legs, and then ran downstairs to leave.

It was cold as dicks outside; Tucker made a quiet ‘brrr’ noise and tugged his jacket tight around himself as he headed towards the carpark. It was dark out, and he had to follow the light from the windows of the dorm building adjoined to the carpark to figure out where he was going. He tended to have to do that, since he always left so late. And, as usual, he also found himself looking for the open window on the first floor.

“Hey, fuckers!” He called, a hand cupped around his mouth as he approached his car. He grinned to himself, waiting a moment, and then:

“Fuck off, Tucker!”

“Nah, I don’t wanna!”

Someone popped their head out of the window; well, their head and their middle finger. Tucker laughed, leaning against his car and looking up at them.

“Hey Grif.”

“Hey Tucker. Fuck you,” Grif replied, dropping the middle finger, “You heading home huh?”

“Well, I’m not planning on sleeping here in the carpark,” Tucker said, shrugging, “And I definitely didn’t come over here just for the pleasure of seeing you.”

“I repeat, fuck you.”

But Grif was smirking, and Tucker was grinning, and there wasn’t any malice to the words. It was all just a kind of friendly routine that had developed, ever since Tucker had to start parking right by the dorm buildings rather than by the main entrance.

“Oh is Tucker here?” Another voice said, followed by a head of blonde hair popping up next to Grif, “Hi Tucker!”

“Hi Donut,” Tucker said, waving, “You two’s boyfriends hiding in their rooms studying huh?”

“You fucking know it− I mean, wait! Hey! Simmons isn’t my boyfriend!” Grif said, folding his arms. Tucker grinned.

“I didn’t specify who was whose boyfriend, Grif.”

“…Fuck you.”

And then Grif ducked back inside, and Tucker laughed. He gave Donut another wave and then got into his car, starting it up, backing out of his spot and heading out of the university.

Just as he was about to leave the gates, however, he had to slam on the breaks as two figures came into view. The car came to a screeching halt, which definitely sounded like it fucked something up somewhere in the old thing’s workings, and Tucker cursed loudly. The two figures jumped back, but after the smaller of the two gave him the finger they moved right out of the way and he let himself breathe out.

“Fucking… goddamn dark nights.”

The car drove off through the gates, but the smaller of the two students who had just been leaving the campus on foot was still grumbling and muttering various obscenities. The larger of the two sighed softly, nodding along to humour them and leading them along at the same time.

“I mean, seriously. Who doesn’t have their lights on when it’s this dark out? Who does that little fuck think they are? They could have killed us!”

“I don’t know, Felix.”

The tirade continued for a few minutes more, right up until the pair approached the door to a house on the street that lead up to the university campus. There it faded off as Felix leant against the other’s side, waiting for the door to be unlocked.

“I’m tired. Locus I want to cuddle and then go to bed.”

“I think we can manage that, Felix.”

“Damn right we can.”

Locus shook their head, but smiled fondly as they pushed open the door and let Felix go in ahead of them. Then they followed him inside, shutting the door behind them.


	2. United States of Uni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash is feeling a little fried, and is hoping that a meeting with his student mentor and good friend Maine will help him feel a little bit more relaxed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The self-indulgence continues!
> 
> (p.s.: I've included translations for all sign language used [here on my tumblr](http://autisticblueteam.tumblr.com/private/137785475817/tumblr_o1c0r0tzQT1umch04))

Wash’s phone vibrated against his leg, making him jump. He sighed, cursing himself for being so jumpy as he dug the phone out of his pocket, tapping the button on the side and watching the screen light up. It was text message, from Tucker, reading:

_Hey Wash, have a good mentor-y-whatsit thing. Tell the dude hi from me!_

(But with much worse spelling and punctuation, and an obscene amount of emojis, in typical Tucker style)

Wash couldn’t help but smile a little, gnawing on the infinity shaped chew on the cord around his neck, flicking his thumb across the screen and unlocking the phone. He typed a quick reply, something along the lines of ‘thanks, I’ll tell them’ with a couple of typed out kisses (that was a thing people in relationships did, right?) before shoving it back into his pocket. The smile fell almost immediately, and he hugged his coat tighter around him.

The cold air nipped at the tip of his nose and the tops of his ears until he ducked inside, the automatic doors sliding closed behind him as he walked into the library. He saw a familiar shaved head at the back of the room, and with a deep breath put on a smile and walked towards the table.

“Hey, Isaac!”

They looked up, smiling and waving a hand in a swift motion from the side of their head forward. Wash walked over and sat down across from them, curling his hands slightly and knocking the knuckles together before twisting them to face palms up, followed by a quick pointing motion towards the other.

Maine replied with their right hand laid flat in the air, their left hand rested against it side-on and moving it upwards in a slight curve, then pointing at their own chest. They then turned the motion towards Wash, tilting their head and raising their eyebrows.

Wash paused for a moment, and that was all Maine needed to give him a worried look. As quickly as Wash replied with the same sign Maine had first used, to say he was also alright, Maine was simply too observant. They already knew Wash almost too well.

“What’s wrong?” Maine asked, in that deep voice that always hit Wash in the chest, their hands moving in quick signs to match their words. They didn’t meet Wash’s eye, but their expression was that of genuine concern and Wash found himself with his chew back in his mouth, “Wash.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Asking’s my job,” Maine said, their hands still following along, “And as a friend.”

Wash shook his head, words slightly muffled by the silicone in his mouth, “I swear, it’s nothing. I just have a lot of work due, is all. I’m a little fried.”

Well, that wasn’t totally a lie.

Maine raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him any further. They knew when to stop pushing, though Wash knew they were probably still worried.

“Caroline is here. Getting books now. That okay?” They then asked, hands still following along. Wash watched their hands as much as they listened; he was still learning sign language, so Maine had agreed to sign even when they decided to speak to help Wash learn.

“Oh yeah, course it is,” Wash said, nodding. Caroline, or Carolina as she had nicknamed herself since finding out Wash had a state last name like Maine, was nice enough. Maine had been her student mentor for her first year too, and was still her mentor now, so sometimes they had joint meetings. She was easy enough to be around; he’d even given her a recommendation for a chew from the company he used for his.

“Good. How’re your datefriends?”

Wash felt his body relax, and his chewing grew weaker; the change of topic made the conversation instantly feel easier, less daunting, and they slipped into a relaxed mix of sign and spoken word. Maine’s hands would move quickly and fluidly, whilst Wash’s were always that little bit slower and clumsier. Occasionally Maine would reach across and correct the other’s hand positions, never without asking and _always_ mussing up Wash’s hair afterwards. Before Wash knew it he found himself laughing and smiling, and by the time Carolina approached with an armful of books he had his head on his arms laughing at something Maine had said.

“What’s so funny?” Carolina asked, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile. She dumped her books onto the table, a mix of dance theory and martial arts, and hopped up to sit on it cross-legged.

Wash took a moment to compose himself, covering his mouth as he laughed and taking a deep breath, “Maine just told me about the time you kicked them off your dance stage because they were too scared to jump down without steps.”

Maine chuckled, and Carolina’s lips twitched into a smug grin.

“What can I say? They were being a big baby,” She said, leaning forward with her hands between her crossed legs, “It’s not even a high stage.”

“Bully,” Maine said, though they were still smiling. They reached out and tickled Carolina’s nose with a strand of her own ponytail, making her scrunch up her nose and laugh.

Wash smiled, scratching the back of his head, “So, uh, what’re the books for?”

Carolina picked up the pile, dumping it on her lap, “Well, the dance books are for an essay I have coming up. The martial arts books are for purely self-indulgence.”

“Ah, okay. Special interest, right? I could totally be remembering wrong,” Wash said, cringing at himself for the qualifier. But Carolina just nodded, picking up one of the books.

“You remembered right. I do it in my spare time, which I don’t have a lot of lately. So I make up for it by reading,” She said, holding up a book on karate, “And I don’t always have time for that, if I’m honest. Enjoy first year whilst you can Wash, it gets worse from there on out.”

Wash swallowed hard, “Heh. I bet.”

“I have so much work to do. Don’t get me wrong, I can do it. But it’s a lot,” Carolina continued, her eyes now on the books in her lap as she vaguely flicked through the pages, “I do sometimes end up cutting it rather close, or having to use my extensions.”

Wash nodded slowly, mumbling some vague agreement and biting down hard on his chew. His eyes shifted down to the table, and he scratched a little harder at the back of his head.

Maine frowned, nudging Carolina in the leg. Carolina looked up, tilting her head, and Maine nodded towards Wash. Carolina gave a frown of her own upon seeing him, and nodded, placing a fist against her chest and moving it clockwise twice. Maine shook their head.

“So um, how’re Caboose and Tucker?” She asked, flicking the page of the open book between her fingers.

Wash glanced up, “They’re good. They’re around at my place most days now, they like stealing my snacks I think,” He found himself smiling a little, letting the chew drop from his mouth, “Caboose stayed over the other night, he barely fits on my bed lengthways.”

Maine tilted their head, holding up their index finger and circling it in small motions in the air, followed by stretching two fingers out flat and moving the same two fingers from the opposite hand back and forth atop them. Wash raised a fist just in front of him, bobbing it up and down before repeating the signs Maine had used.

“Tucker still has to get home every night,” He added, his hands following along as best he could. Maine didn’t correct him, so he figured he was doing alright, “It does suck. Spending last night with Caboose sleeping next to me was… nice,” His smile was spreading, and he was pretty sure he could feel his cheeks turning slightly red, “And I’d love to be able to do that with both of them. But Tucker just can’t do it. We are starting to look into houses for next year though, so there’s that.”

“Why can’t he?” Carolina asked.

“He has to drive home, he has commitments I’m assuming. I don’t want to pry too much so I don’t ask,” Wash said with a shrug, scrunching up his face as Maine ruffled his hair, “Hey! What was that one for?”

Maine shrugged, “Because.”

Wash pouted, kneeling up in his chair quickly and reaching a hand towards Maine. Then he stopped mid-lean.

“…I forgot for a moment that you don’t actually have hair to mess up…”

And at that the table burst into laughter so loud that they got a verbal warning off the librarian, and had to leave the library. They were still laughing as they left, with Carolina fumbling to put her books in her bag and Maine trying to pull their coat on.

Wash shook his head, turning the arm of Maine’s coat the right way out and chuckling as Maine thanked him.

“That coat is too small for you, Isaac,” He said, chuckling and scrunching his face as Maine once again ruffled his hair. He shoved the hand away, only to be pulled in for a hug.

“’M too big for the coat,” Maine said, hugging Wash tight to them and messing up his hair _again_. Wash swears they must have an obsession with his hair, or with messing with him. But he wasn’t complaining, especially not when being given one of Maine’s hugs which were, well, amazing. Maine gave the best hugs. Not that he’d ever tell Caboose that.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s probably more accurate,” He said after a moment, muffled by his face being pressed into Maine’s thick coat. Maine chuckled, and with his head rested against the taller student’s chest Wash could feel the vibrations in their chest as well as their own and found himself relaxing.

“Hey, do I get one of those hugs?”

Maine mussed up Wash’s hair again and gave him a tight squeeze before letting go with one arm, holding the other out towards Carolina. A moment later she was pressed against Maine’s chest also (there was plenty of room) and the hug felt even better, and warmer. Wash found himself grinning.

Carolina was the first to pull away, squeezing Maine around the waist and messing up Wash’s hair (“Seriously, what is with you guys and my hair today?”) as she did so.

“Well, I’ve got a very stressed out law student girlfriend, an even more stressed out law student boyfriend, and a rather stressed out artist datefriend to get back to. So I should probably head off,” Carolina said, bouncing on her toes, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, have a good one Carolina,” Wash said, waving but not moving away from the hug.

Maine nodded, using one hand with the first two fingers apart to touch their cheek, before fluidly turning it into a pointing motion towards Carolina with the corresponding thumb up. Carolina waved in return, and then she was off.

Maine tapped Wash on the head, pointing at him and then bumping his hands together with two outstretched index fingers.

“Well, rather than three datefriends who are all stressed out I have two datefriends who are probably just going to ambush me with hugs the moment I walk up to them, but yeah, I should probably go too,” He replied, giving them a tight squeeze and then stepping back, “Thanks as usual Isaac. Talk to you later, and we meet here the same time next week as usual right?”

Maine nodded, and with a last ruffle of Wash’s hair they waved and let Wash go on his way.

Wash let himself go on auto-pilot for the walk over to the centre of campus, chewing on his chew and humming a tune under his breath. The closer he got to his destination the more people there were around, dashing to classes or waiting for people or just sitting around, but the campus was still small and it wasn’t really busy per say. He still hugged his arms a little closer to his body, however, and bit on his chew a little harder.

Caboose and Tucker weren’t hard to spot, especially not with Caboose already waving his hands excitedly, and wearing a very bright blue skirt and one of his biggest, softest jumpers. Wash felt himself smile and his pace quicken, and within moments he was enveloped by Caboose’s welcoming hug.

“Welcome back!”

“I wasn’t gone that long buddy,” Wash said, as he buried his face against Caboose’s chest and revelled in the warmth of the hug, “You switched pronouns or you just want to feel pretty?”

“They!” Caboose announced proudly, with a beaming smile, “And also the pretty thing. Yes.”

Tucker chuckled, walking around to join the hug with an arm around Caboose’s back, “They’ve been very impatient for you to get back. So excited they didn’t even want a kiss off me, they just wanted to wait for you to come back.”

“Oh really now? Does that mean I get a kiss?” Wash said, looking up at Caboose. Caboose beamed, and Wash got his answer in the form of a very sweet kiss on the lips. He leant into the touch immediately, Caboose’s hand cupping gently around the back of his head and his own fingers lacing carefully into Caboose’s hair.

When Caboose pulled away Wash was smiling, and rested his head against their chest. Tucker was watching the two of them with a grin, hoisting his bag up his shoulder and brushing a dreadlock from his face.

“Can I get one of those before I have to go to my lecture? Because you two have plenty of time for more kisses, and I’ve got to go listen to ‘Miss Dull McDull’ talk for like two hours. I need something to get me through,” He said, winking.

Wash rolled his eyes, grabbing Tucker by the strap of his bag and pulling him in for a kiss. Tucker let out a noise that could only be described as aroused as he did so, wrapping his arms around Wash’s neck and playing with his hair. Wash felt his cheeks redden at the sound, holding the kiss for a short moment before pulling back and letting Caboose give Tucker a kiss too.

When Caboose too pulled away, Tucker walked backwards away from them, “See you guys in two hours! Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“We will have the right amount of fun,” Caboose said with a nod, making Tucker laugh as he gave a quick wave and then turned to jog off to his lecture.

Wash leant his head against Caboose’s chest, sighing contently and giving his datefriend a squeeze, “C’mon Mikey, let’s go get some lunch.”

“Ooh yes! I want lunch. I hope there is the pizza today,” Caboose said, taking Wash by the hand. Wash immediately felt his fingers being squeezed and played with, and smiled, “Because I think I would like pizza.”

“If there isn’t we can order one tonight,” Wash said, squeezing the hand and leading Caboose towards the dining hall, “Does that sound okay?”

Caboose considered it, then nodded, “Yes!”

“Good. C’mon then buddy.”


	3. Waking Sleeping Uni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting to university life is a slow process, but Felix and Locus have got each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I wanted to write, but its finally finished. This chapter is Lolix centric, with some reds at the end. So here we go, another chapter of self-indulgence as courtesy of buddahthebob and I’s Uni AU!
> 
> (it should be noted that Locus is one of the autistic characters tagged under my autistic characters tag, as well as Wash, Caboose and Carolina (so far))

Felix nuzzled his head against Locus’ chest, tucking his legs up between the two of them for extra warmth and huddling under the covers. Locus had their eyes closed, their one arm loosely draped over Felix’s side and their other under his head. Their hand was laced into his hair, combing through the soft waves slowly, taking their time. There was no rush. They could simply lay there, half asleep and wrapped in warm sheets and with Felix by their side, combing their fingers through his hair over and over.

Felix leant his head eagerly into the touch, making soft content noises and revelling in the attention. He buried his head against Locus’s chest, content to lay there as they stimmed with his hair for however long they needed to. It wasn’t like he didn’t like it, after all. Locus’ touch was gentle, calming, and inherently intimate for them both. This was the perfect way to break in the day.

Eventually Locus let out a soft sigh, opening their eyes and running their fingers through Felix’s hair one last time before letting the motion come to a stop. Felix perked up immediately, letting out what almost sounded like a whine as he pushed his head against their hand. Locus chuckled quietly, combing their fingers through his hair once more.

“Didn’t say you could stop.”

“Felix, we have to get up.”

“Mm. But _do_ we though? Do we _have_ to?”

“Yes.”

“You’re no fun,” Felix said, pouting.

Locus shook their head, running their fingers through his hair a final time before reluctantly dropping their hand away. Felix tried to follow the hand for a moment before resigning to the fact that stimming time was over for now, head-butting Locus in the chest and sitting up. He had a pout on his face, and Locus shook their head once again as they too sat up.

“I’m going to take a shower,” They said, kissing Felix’s head.

“Need help?” Felix asked, leaning toward the kiss. Locus shook their head, standing up from the bed, “Alright. I’ll go knock up some breakfast. Which is code for ‘I’ll get last night’s leftovers out’.”

Locus chuckled, grabbing the clothes they’d laid out the night before and giving Felix a quick kiss on their way past him to the bathroom.

Their bathroom was simple, as you’d expect from a student let; a simply shower mounted above a simple bathtub, and basic other fixtures. Locus closed the door behind them as they entered, sighing slightly at the creaking noise the hinges made, and made their way over to the tub. They laid their clothes out in a pile, with their underwear on the top through to their sweater on the bottom, and stripped down. They looked at the shower with a soft sigh, and then stepped into the tub.

Downstairs Felix, still clad only in his underwear and t-shirt from the night before, knocked the fridge door closed with his elbow. He hummed under his breath, pouting a little as he had to stand on his tip toes to reach the plates that had been pushed just that little bit too far back on the shelf. He barely managed to wrap his fingers around the edge of the pile, tugging it forward enough that he could grab two. Sighing in relief he placed them down and dished up the previous night’s leftovers.

“Damn plates. Fucking hiding,” He grumbled, a hand on his back and a groan escaping, “Fuck.”

He sighed, shaking his head and finishing dishing up breakfast. He poured them drinks, set the plates on their rather crappy little table, and then went to wash out the container the leftovers had been in.

It was as he stood there that Felix felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around him, and he relaxed instantly back against his partner’s chest. Locus pressed a kiss to his head through his hair, and he tilted his head back to grin up at them.

“Hey big guy. Rocking a dad jumper again, huh?”

“It’s not a dad jumper.”

“It’s totally a dad jumper,” Felix said, kissing Locus on the chin. He saw them open their mouth, and shook his head, “Dad. Jumper.”

“You truly are insufferable,” Locus said, without a hint of malice, pressing another kiss to the top of his head before stepping away. Felix turned around with a grin.

“You married me.”

“And I wonder why every day,” Locus said, a smile on their face. Felix winked, walking past them towards the table.

“Because you love me, of course. I mean, who wouldn’t?” He said, turning to walk backwards so he could see Locus. He grinned at the other rolling their eyes.

“A number of people. And as I recall, it was because you love me,” They retorted, following their partner towards the table. Felix’s grin only grew wider.

“Nah,” He said, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down, “C’mon, eat your leftovers you big sap.”

Locus hid a chuckle behind a shake of their head, slipping into the seat opposite him and starting to eat. With that they slipped into a comfortable silence, with Felix nudging at Locus’ feet under the table every now and again whilst Locus sat there with a hint of a smile on their face that made Felix grin more.

Felix finished eating first, kicking his chair back and standing up. He tried to hide the grimace he could feel on his face at the pain in his back, walking to the sink with his dishes in hand, but he could feel Locus glancing at him.

“I’m fine, Lo.”

“Are you sure? Do you need your medication?” Locus asked, no longer paying attention to their food. Felix sighed, “Felix.”

“No, I don’t. I’m fine, Locus, I just tweaked it a little bit reaching for the plates. I’m totally fine, mm’kay?” He said, glancing over his shoulder as he washed up his dishes. Locus didn’t look convinced, “Mm’kay?”

Locus frowned, but nodded, “Alright. As long as you’re sure.”

Felix smiled, shaking his hands dry and walking back over. He pressed a kiss to Locus’ temple, “I’m sure big guy. Now finish eating so I can wash those plates and we can get ready with time to spare.”

Locus returned to eating, “You know you don’t have to wash the plates right away.”

“I know, I just like to.”

A few minutes later Locus had finished eating, Felix had washed up their plate, and the two were sat in their living room. Felix was lazed against Locus as he sorted out his bag for the day, putting in his textbooks and scripts and whatnot. Locus had already packed the night before, of course they had. Felix scoffed at that, double checking he had everything packed.

“All set. And with time to spare!” He said, dumping his bag to the side and snuggling his head against Locus’ chest. Locus wrapped their arm around him combing their fingers into his hair. Felix grinned, relaxing, “You good for another day of university life?”

“I’m getting used to it, I think,” Locus said, combing their fingers through the waves of Felix’s hair. Felix leant into the touch eagerly, pushing against their hand, “Slowly.”

“Slowly’s good. Slowly’s better than not at all,” Felix said, a low hum-like noise escaping his lips. He pushed his head more into the hand, and Locus continued to run their fingers through the soft waves, “You’re doing great Lo.”

Locus smiled, brushing their fingers through his hair and stretching out the waves until they were straight before letting them spring back. They weren’t ringlets today, but the way the waves worked was just as satisfying. They watched them and felt them smooth out beneath their fingers, then let them fall back to Felix’s head.

“Will you be alright once I go off to my class today, Felix?”

“Yeah yeah, I got Donut to hang around with until my class starts,” Felix said, waving a hand. His eyes were closed as he relaxed under the touch, “Kid’s surprisingly good company. And he is a kid, he’s like… eighteen. Fuck, well now I feel old. He’s fifteen years younger than me! Locus, tell me I’m not old.”

“You’re not old,” Locus chuckled, smoothing down Felix’s hair before returning to their previous motions, “Yet.”

Felix looked contented for a moment, then scowled, “Hey!”

Locus laughed, kissing the top of his head. Felix pouted at them, nuzzling against their side and against their hand.

“I told you you’re not old.”

“Oh shut up.”

With some time still to spare, so Locus relaxed back and continued their repetitive combing of Felix’s hair. Felix closed his eyes, leaning his head on Locus’ chest and lazily draping an arm across them. He nuzzled gladly into the hand stroking his hair, drumming his fingers lightly against Locus’ abdomen and curling his legs up between them. Locus simply held him close, and played with his hair.

They stayed that way for a while, until Locus glanced at the clock and their hand came to a stop. Felix repeated his earlier response of nudging the hand with a pout, but Locus didn’t give in this time.

“We have to make our way to the campus.”

“Boooo.”

“Felix.”

Felix sighed, “Do we _gotta_?”

“Yes, we ‘gotta’, Felix,” Locus kissed his forehead, and Felix reluctantly sat up, “I have class.”

“I’d rather just sit here and be smothered with attention, honestly. But fine,” He kissed Locus’ cheek, slipping off the sofa. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, picking up Locus’ from the table and tossing it to them, “C’mon then big guy.”

Locus caught the bag and stood up, kissing Felix’s forehead once again as they slipped the bag over their shoulder. They offered Felix a hand, which he took gladly, and after a little more fuss the couple made their way out of the house and turned in the direction of the university campus.

They took the walk as slowly as they could, their fingers interlinked and Felix pressed against Locus’ side. They were bundled in thick coats, and Felix’s hair was flattened down under a hat in a way that made him look rather ridiculous. Locus was successfully holding back laughter, but the smile on their face didn’t go unnoticed by Felix who proceeded to pout at them exaggeratedly. Locus pulled his hat down to hide the pout. Felix couldn’t not laugh.

As they entered campus their pace dropped further.

“Where is Donut meeting you?” Locus asked, squeezing Felix’s hand.

“Main building,” Felix said, squeezing their hand in return.

“Want me to walk there with you?”

“Nah, I’m good. You have to get to your class,” They reached the paved plaza that branched off into several paths leading to various parts of the campus, where they stopped for a moment. Felix stood up on his tip-toes to press a kiss to Locus’ lips, holding it for a moment, “See you later, call me if you need me. Mm’kay?”

Locus nodded, bending to kiss him in return, “You too.”

Felix grinned, nudging their arm, “Go on, go do your animating stuff. You can shower me in love later.”

Locus rolled their eyes with a smile, pulling his hat over his face again before walking away. They chuckled at the indignant sound that Felix made, turning down the path that would lead towards the arts buildings.

Felix pulled his hat off, shaking his hair out before putting it back on. He watched Locus go, waiting until they were all but out of sight before adjusting their bag and turning down the path leading to the centre of campus.

A few minutes later he walked into the main building, sighing in relief at the heated air and undoing his coat. He saw the familiar flash of blonde hair and pink clothes up ahead, and gave a quick wave as he walked over.

“That’s the Felix dude you’re friends with?” Grif asked, leant against the table with a pack of cigarettes in hand. Donut nodded with a big smile, “The Felix that disabled a guy’s arm for a whole day because he made a comment about his boyfriend?”

“The very same!” Donut said, that big smile not leaving his face for a moment. Well, until he held a hand flat near his mouth and ‘whispered’, “Honestly, the guy deserved it if you ask me!”

“I don’t know, Donut. That’s kinda dangerous,” Doc said, looking up from his notes for just long enough to make the comment. Then he sighed and returned to his notes, taking a big swig of his drink as he did.

“Nah, it’s _fine_ ,” Donut said, waving a dismissive hand.

“Hey, Donut!” Felix said, walking up to the table with a quick wave as he pulled off his coat, “And Doc.”

“I keep saying, my name isn’t Doc. We’re already calling _Franklin_ Donut, we don’t need to call me by a nickname too! Just call me Frank! I’m not even studying to become a doctor!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever Doc. Where’s the nerdy one anyway?” Felix said, slipping into a seat opposite Donut.

“Oh, Simmons? He’d at class already,” Donut said with a shrug, “I mean, his class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes but he likes to go early. He went over a half hour ago.”

“Speaking of which,” Grif said, standing up and pulling out a lighter, “I’m going to get in a smoke break before my ‘Introduction to Marine Biology’ class. See you later Donut, Doc.”

“If you’re going to call me Doc then at least listen to me when I tell you you’re killing yourself with those things!”

“Yeah yeah,” Grif said, waving to the group and heading out of the door with a cigarette in his mouth and his lighter in hand. Doc sighed, shaking his head.

“How have I survived living with you guys for so long…”

“Because you like me!” Donut said, kissing his cheek. Doc’s cheeks went dark, and he buried himself into his notes. Donut beamed, “Aw!”

Felix laughed, his head in his hands. Never a dull moment.


	4. Unixpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker finally gets to stay over at Wash’s for the night, with snacks, cuddles and Netflix galore. When he gets a phone call, however, the night takes a very unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also took forever. Fluff week over on tumblr kind of took up all of my time for a week, and I’ve had my own university work. But here it is! The most important chapter. The star is about to arrive.

Tucker woke up when he punched himself in the face.

“Who− what− where?” He spluttered, jolting up in his seat, looking around. Some of his fellow students gave him funny looks, and he swore he heard someone snickering. He groaned, rubbing the side of his face, “ _Ouch_. Well _that_ hurt like a motherfucker…”

“Are you okay, Tucker?”

“Huh?” Tucker glanced to his right, chuckling awkwardly upon seeing the familiar Japanese woman, “Oh, Sheila! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine. Just punched myself in the face, y’know, another day in my life.”

Sheila smiled, shaking her head, “Oh Tucker. You have been asleep for most of the lecture today. Did you not get enough sleep?”

“Heh, I guess not,” Tucker said with a shrug, starting to pack up his stuff, “Stuff’s been hectic as dicks lately. Like, I’m staying at Wash’s for the first time tonight, work’s picking up again, and J− uh, stuff’s just busy.”

“Oh well then, I’m not surprised you’re so tired!” Sheila slipped her laptop into her bag, then smiled at Tucker, “I don’t suppose you’d mind wheeling my chair down to me again, would you?”

Tucker nodded quickly, “Oh yeah, sure! Coming right up.”

He vaulted over the desk to get past her, rather than going the long way around, and ran up to the back of the room where Sheila’s wheelchair was parked. He wheeled it down to the row they were sat on, kicking on the brakes.

“Thank you,” Sheila said, lifting herself out of her seat and into her chair, “I do wish the university would make their lecture halls a little more accessible.”

“Yeah, they’re really not built with you in mind, huh? You good?”

Sheila nodded, and the two headed towards the lecture hall’s exit. Most of the class had already filed out and were now bustling around the hallway, alongside those waiting to go into their next lecture or waiting for someone. It seemed more cramped than usual, however, especially considering the next lecture slot was the last of the day.

“What seems to be the hold up?” Sheila asked, tilting her head.

“I’m not sure. One sec,” Tucker stood on the metal bar running around the nearest pillar, holding onto the wall and peering over the crowd. As soon as he was above the crowd, the problem became apparent.

“Tucker! There you are!” Caboose beamed, waving. He’d somehow managed to position himself in exactly the right place to disrupt the flow of students.

Tucker couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh my god.”

“What is it?” Sheila said. Tucker hopped down from the bar, still laughing under his breath.

“It’s my adorable, but huge, datefriend.”

“Oh!”

“I better go to him, stop him blocking up the hallway,” He slung his bag over his shoulder, waving at Sheila, “See you on Monday, Sheila! Oh, and Donut wanted me to tell you to tell Lopez he said hi.”

Sheila laughed, waving in return as Tucker turned and started to push through the crowd.

“Tucker! There you are! I could not see you!” Caboose said as Tucker approached. Tucker kissed him on the cheek, taking his hand.

“No shit, buddy, I was right by the door. What’re you doing here anyway? You never come to wait for me after this lecture,” Tucker said, raising a brow. He squeezed his hand, starting to lead him out of the hallway. The blockage now cleared, the other students began to file out around them.

“Oh! I am just excited,” Caboose replied, nodding, “Tucker is doing the sleeping over tonight! I wanted to come and get Tucker because I am excited.”

Tucker chuckled, shaking his head, “Of course. I’m excited too Caboose, but I’d have come straight over like I would have any other Friday.”

“But it is not any other Friday. It is sleepover Friday,” Caboose beamed, giving Tucker’s hand a squeeze, “I am very excited Tucker. We do not have to say goodbye at eight!”

“Nope, we sure don’t,” Tucker stopped in the central plaza, turning to his datefriend, “First question: You got Wash’s student card?”

Caboose nodded, digging into his pocket with his tongue stuck out. After a moment’s effort, he pulled out the card and held it up, “Yes!”

“Good. Second question: Does he _know_ you have his student card?”

“Nope!”

Tucker groaned, despite the grin on his face, resting his head in his hand, “Oh boy. Okay come on, let’s hurry back before the poor dude freaks out because he can’t find his card.”

“Yes I think that would be a good idea,” Caboose said with a solemn nod. Tucker laughed, standing on his tip toes to give him a kiss. As usual, he had to wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him down.

“Why are you so fucking tall, dude?” He said when he pulled back, bopping their noses together and then letting Caboose stand straight.

Caboose beamed, “Because I drank my milk!”

“Right, of course.”

* * *

“Let me guess. Caboose grabbed my student card again,” Wash said as he stood holding the door to his room open. Tucker and Caboose walked in, and Caboose flashed the card with a beaming smile to match, “Buddy you gotta remember to tell me when you take that, okay?”

Caboose pouted, “I will try.”

“I know,” Wash sighed, letting the door shut. He’d never been able to stay mad at Caboose, “Come here, you.”

Caboose’s pout disappeared in favour of his usual beaming smile. He wrapped Wash in a tight hug, nuzzling his face against his neck. Wash smiled, lacing his fingers into his hair and wrapping his other arm around him.

“Hey, don’t I get some attention? I’m the one who’s staying over for the first time.”

Wash rolled his eyes at Caboose, making the other student grin, then looked to Tucker, “Just for that, no.”

“Meanie,” Tucker said, through a grin. Wash shook his head, kissing Caboose’s forehead and then walking into the room. He gave Tucker a kiss on the cheek on his way past him, “Okay you’re not as much of a meanie now.”

 “Oh just dump your bags.”

Tucker’s school bag was dumped next to the bed, his extra bag of clothes tossed on top of it. He kicked off his shoes, setting them down neatly by Wash’s favourite, well-worn yellow converse and Caboose’s trusty velcroed trainers. He heard the thump of Caboose flopping onto the bed before he’d even finished setting them down, and turned around to see him spread eagled on his back.

“I look away for two seconds.”

Caboose let out a hearty ‘HA HA HA!’, rolling onto his side to grin at Wash – who was now standing in the kitchen. Wash smiled back at him, searching through the cabinets.

“Alright, what snacks do you want?” He asked, peering around the collection of less than healthy snacks he’d collected. He very rarely ate any of them when he was alone, he only really ate a few favourite treats if he was honest, but his datefriends had massive sweet teeth. So he’d built up a collection over the past few weeks.

“All of them.”

“Caboose, you can’t have all of them.”

“Why not?”

“I… um,” Well, he didn’t exactly have an answer for that. He looked over to Caboose, who was looking back with a wide, cheeky grin and bright eyes, “…Because then there won’t be any left for the rest of the weekend?”

Caboose considered it for a moment, then nodded, “Oh I do not want that. Okay, I will have Skittles please!”

“And Tucker?”

Tucker looked up from his phone, “Huh? Oh, I’ll have my usual.”

Right, of course. He pulled out the bag of _Pica Fresa_ sweets, tossing them to his boyfriend, “I hope you appreciate how hard it is to get hold of those.”

Tucker caught the bag in one hand, “Oh I know. There’s just no English brand that’s the same!”

“Trust you to be into sweets from abroad,” Wash closed the cabinet and walked over to the bed, grabbing his laptop and sitting down beside Caboose. Caboose immediately deposited his head in Wash’s lap, and Wash’s fingers were immediately in his hair. He set up his laptop in the space left on the bed in front of him, “Alright, what do we want to watch on Netflix today?”

“Depends,” Tucker said, popping sweets into his mouth. He walked over, squeezing himself in behind Wash and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, “Are we watching something just to laugh at how bad it is, to laugh at it because it’s good, or for plot-related entertainment?”

Wash twisted his head to look back at him, “Well now that also depends. How much did your lecture today destroy you?”

Tucker’s brow furrowed, “Hm… Laugh at how bad it is.”

“ _Serial Mom_ , then?”

Tucker and Caboose both nodded at the same time, “ _Serial Mom_.”

 _Serial Mom_ was, as ever, an hour and thirty three minutes of laughter and exclamations of utter disbelief. Ever since Tucker had seen the movie for the first time at the LGBT+ society’s Halloween movie social, then come back the next day much too excited to show Caboose and Wash what they’d missed because of university work, watching it had become almost a tradition. And, no matter how many times they watched it, it was always funny.

“Fuck man, I cannot believe that movie. We should definitely be bored of that by now,” Tucker said as it came to an end, and Wash clicked back to the Netflix homepage, “Like, seriously.”

“Probably,” Caboose agreed with a nod. He was now curled up so that most of his upper body was across Wash’s lap, with Tucker laid the other way with his head leant back against the bigger student’s shoulder.

David Washington’s legs were positively crushed under them.

“If I can have the blood flow in my legs back…” He said, a not so subtle hint that was mostly ignored, “What are we going to watch next?”

“I think I would like to watch a cartoon now,” Caboose said, looking up at Wash, “And also have more food. It is almost time for dinner!”

Wash glanced at the clock. It was about half past six, “That’s true. Tucker, are you ready for food?”

Tucker didn’t look up from his phone.

“…Tucker?”

“Huh?” Finally he looked up, “Oh, sorry dude. What did you ask?”

Wash’s brow knitted, “Are you alright Tucker? You’ve been absorbed in your phone rather a lot tonight. You even missed your favourite part of the movie looking at it.”

Tucker waved a dismissive hand, “Pfft, I’m _fine_. You’re such a worrywart, dude. I’m a millennial, don’t you know that means I’m _always_ checking my phone?”

“That is a funny joke,” Caboose said, grinning.

“Thanks buddy.”

Wash was far from convinced, and he was sure it showed, but deciding the issue wasn’t worth pushing he simply sighed, “I asked if you’re ready for food.”

Tucker grinned, sitting up, “Oh, hell yeah I am. We ordering or you cooking?”

“Um…” Wash looked at his kitchen, a mess of plates and crumbs, “Ordering in.”

“Alright, our usual pizza place?” Tucker looked at his datefriends, and upon receiving a nod he hopped up, “Alright, whilst I make the call could you pour me a drink? The alcoholic kind. Maybe you’re right and I’m a bit off tonight. Should help me relax.”

“Tucker, it’s six thirty.”

“Just a _little_ bit, dude. Please?”

Wash sighed, but nodded. Tucker grinned, kissing him quickly and swiping his finger across the listing for the pizza place in his phone. He put it up to his ear and started ordering, and Wash got up to pour the three of them drinks. Only Tucker’s had alcohol.

About half an hour their pizza arrived, Tucker picking it up as he always did, and they were back to relaxing. They put on an old cartoon as background noise as they ate and talked about classes that week. Topics ranged from complaining about lectures and lecturers to talking about actual fun things that had happened, though it was usually the former. In fact, Caboose was responsible for most of the positive input.

Time passed quickly as they relaxed. Tucker had gone through more than one drink; the pizza box was discarded on a pile of rubbish due to be taken down to disposal; the three were in a tangled pile that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it was. By the time nine hit, Tucker had stopped checking his phone. By the time ten had hit, the three were completely enraptured in some ridiculous story Wash was telling from his time back in secondary school.

It was about ten past when Tucker’s phone buzzed to life.

“Shit, sorry,” He scrambled to sit up, feeling around the bed for his discarded phone. Caboose found it in the end, handing it to him with the screen lit up with the name ‘ANDERSMITH’. Tucker’s eyes noticeably widened, and he snatched the phone away a little sharper than he meant to, dragging the accept logo and putting the phone to his eat, “What the fuck’s wrong? Is he okay?”

Tucker stood up from the bed, plugging his other ear. Wash frowned, sitting up and watching him. He could hear the muffled sound of another voice, catching them saying something that sounded like ‘he’s fine’, but otherwise unable to make out anything else. Whatever was going on, Tucker was in an instant frenzy, and nothing the other person was saying seemed to be calming him down any.

“What do you− you _promised_ you could stay the whole night! I even agreed to pay more!” A pause, “I… Well… Fine, sorry, sorry, you can’t help there being a family emergency… sorry… I just… _fuck_! How long can you wait?” Another pause, “I can’t get home that quick! _Shit_! I… okay, okay, I’m going to give you a number. Call it, and tell the fuck that picks up that Tucker needs him to come over and look after Junior for like an hour, okay? He doesn’t live far he’ll be there in like five minutes. Okay? …Okay good, here’s the number…”

Wash and Caboose could only watch and listen as Tucker talked, now rattling off a mobile number whilst pacing the room in circles. By the time he put the phone down he looked absolutely terrified, grabbing the clothing he’d removed everything he deemed non-essential for the moment, binder included, into his bag. It was only when he came back to the bed and started feeling around for his keys that Wash finally managed to get a word in.

“Tucker, what’s wrong?”

“I gotta go. Like now,” He replied, finding his keys and snatching them up with a clatter, “I’m sorry, I know I said I’d stay the night but… something’s happened and I… I just gotta go.”

He kissed Caboose, and went in to kiss Wash. Wash pulled back, and looked at him.

“Tucker, you’ve been drinking.”

Tucker huffed, “David I’m fine; it was like two drinks! You _know_ I’m not that much of a lightweight! I gotta go, now. I’ll be fine!”

“Lavernius Tucker, you are _not_ driving after you’ve had alcohol,” He grabbed the keys from Tucker’s hand before he could react, standing up, “I’m driving you home.”

Tucker’s eyes widened, “No! No way David, you’re not!”

Wash folded his arms, “Then you’re staying here.”

“David, I _have_ to go home! Give me the fucking keys!”

“If you have to go home so bad, you’ll let me drive you,” Wash said, keeping the keys tight in his fist. Tucker gritted his teeth, looking at him, “Your choice, Lavernius. I can tell you’re panicked, alright? But it’s not safe to drive after drinking, for you or anyone around you. Being panicked will only make that worse.”

“I…” Tucker slumped, “Fine.”

Wash kissed the top of his head, “Thank you. Mikey, you stay here, okay? Make yourself comfortable, if I’m not back before you get tired then go ahead and sleep.”

“Okay. I will do that,” Caboose said with a nod. He knelt up on the edge of the bed, kissing Tucker’s cheek and hugging him around his shoulders, “I love you Tucker! I hope you are not too not-okay.”

Tucker sighed, turning his head and kissing Caboose’s cheek in return, “I love you too Mikey. Sorry I can’t stay. I’ll make it up to you. Both of you.”

Wash took his hand, giving it a squeeze, “Come on, let’s get going.”

The walk out to the car was plagued by awkward silence. Tucker focused his eyes on the floor, his arms folded over his chest and his bag slipping from his shoulder. Wash glanced at him occasionally, but didn’t break the silence. Even as they reached the car and got in, Tucker only spoke for long enough to tell Wash his address.

The first forty minutes of the drive were much the same. Tucker spoke occasionally to give directions, especially in the areas where street lights were scarce, but otherwise remained quiet. Wash didn’t have the guts to speak up first, so he remained completely silent. It was only when he saw Tucker wipe his eyes that he finally spoke.

“Tucker are you crying…?”

Tucker tensed, “N-No! Take a right here.”

Wash sighed, taking the turn, “You wiped your eyes. You’re crying. Lavernius, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Tucker didn’t say anything, but he did give a slow nod. Wash considered that at least a semi-successful attempt at getting some communication out of him, and so he continued.

“Please Lavernius, I’m worried. What’s going on?”

Tucker bit his lip, then sighed, “It’s a long story. It’ll… it’ll be easier to show you. We’re not far now. Fuck, this was not how you were meant to find out…”

“Find out what?”

“You’ll see.”

They returned to silence.

Twenty minutes passed before Wash was told to turn down onto a residential street, neither the nicest in the area or the worst, and park in front of number twenty. There he stopped the engine, gave Tucker his keys back, and clambered out of the car.

Tucker approached the house first. Wash found himself hovering behind him somewhat awkwardly, still worried and still confused. The shorter man rapped his knuckles against the door as he unlocked it, shouldering it to make it open, and gestured for Wash to follow him as he stepped inside.

“Oh thank _god_ , he keeps crying!”

Wash didn’t recognise that voice. He did, however, recognise the sound of a child crying.

“Give him here, Charles,” Tucker said, tossing his bag to the floor and thrusting his arms out. Wash nudged the door closed and stepped into the hallway properly just in time to see another young man hand hand over a crying toddler. A crying toddler that almost instantly calmed down when Tucker tucked them to his chest, kissing their forehead. They immediately responded by booping their nose against Tucker’s, “I got you. I’m sorry kiddo, you weren’t meant to get stuck with your annoying uncle.”

“…What?”

‘Charles’ looked at Wash, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Shut up, Charles,” Tucker retorted, turning to Wash.

Wash blinked, looking at the toddler. The toddler looked back at him, thumb in their mouth. Tucker sighed.

“David, meet Junior.”


	5. Uniderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junior’s arrived on the scene, and Tucker’s got a story to tell. He just didn’t expect this to be how he’d end up telling it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long break between chapters continues! University is picking up the pace right now, so I’m not getting a lot of time to do proper writing, fluff war (which will be posted here on AO3 soon) was really the last thing I did before getting on some work buuut…
> 
> There’s some warnings this chapter, which won’t happen too often but here:
> 
>  ** _Warnings for:_** Misgendering; Deadnaming; Discussions of transphobia and homophobia/biphobia; Discussions of pregnancy (specifically trans pregnancy); Discussions/Mentions of dysphoria

“I… _What_?”

Tucker heaved a sigh, adjusting Junior’s position on his hip and nodding towards one of the doors along the hallway, “Let’s just sit down. This is a… bit of a long fucking story.”

“Um,” Wash blinked a few times, looking at the toddler that was still watching him whilst sucking his thumb, “Right.”

“Come on,” Tucker said, turning and heading towards the other room. As he passed Charles he elbowed him in the side, “ _You_ can piss off back home now.”

Tucker went through the door, but Charles didn’t make a move to leave. Wash glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he, somewhat awkwardly, followed Tucker into the living room. That was Tucker’s brother? He didn’t even know Tucker had a brother. They didn’t look all that alike, apart from the skin and hair colour; half-brother, maybe?

“Uh, sit down wherever you can find space,” Tucker’s voice snapped Wash out of his thoughts, and he looked at his boyfriend, “I mean it’s a bit of a mess but you can move shit.”

Wash nodded, looking around. The room was indeed a mess, with toys and books and clothes spread around every available surface, but it wasn’t hard to move a few things off one of the sofa cushions and sit down there. Though he did have to pull an alien toy from under him after he sat down, that he awkwardly held onto.

“Charles, I don’t hear you leaving!”

“Uh,” Charles’ head popped around the doorframe, “Can I talk to you before I go, Lavender−”

Tucker’s expression changed in an instant, and he all but _growled_ as he responded, “Do NOT _call me that_!”

Charles squeaked, ducking back, “Sorry!”

Tucker’s teeth gritted, and he turned to Wash, “David, you mind taking Junior for a minute whilst I go talk to this dickhead?”

“Uh,” Wash swallowed hard, giving a nod. He unclenched his fists, not having even realised he’d clenched them, and pushed down the bubbling anger in his own chest, “Yeah, yeah. Hand him over.”

“Thanks,” Tucker sighed, kissing the top of Junior’s head and carefully passing him over to Wash. He gave Wash a quick kiss, “Sorry. Be right back.”

With that Tucker stepped back and turned to Charles, who gulped quite audibly and ducked out into the hallway as Tucker stormed over.

“You fucking _dickhead_ are you _kidding_ me with this shit−”

“−I forgot I’m sorry! You’re not wearing that– that binder thing and−”

“−Palomo my fucking tits being visible doesn’t fucking mean you can _deadname me_ −”

“−I forgot! I just slipped up I−”

“−I swear to god if Mom told you to fucking be like that when you came−”

“−No she didn’t she didn’t! She just said to say−”

It was then Tucker slammed the door shut behind him, and the argument became little more than muffled voices.

Wash didn’t realise he’d begun to bite at his lip until he felt a small hand poke at his mouth, pulling his lip from his teeth and proceeding to flick at it for a moment. He looked at Junior, his brows slightly furrowed, and Junior looked back at him for a moment before turning his attention to Wash’s hair. A curious hand petted at the blonde locks, and Wash chuckled a little.

“Uh, hey there kiddo,” He said, shifting him so he was holding him more comfortably, “Junior, huh?”

Junior tilted his head, then beamed a toothy smile up at him. The smile was infectious, and Wash chuckled again, bouncing the toddler a little.

“You’ve got a cheeky grin to rival your dad’s,” He paused, slumping back in his seat and letting those words sink in, “Your _dad’s_. God.”

The argument out in the hallway got louder, and Wash could do very little but sit, listen and wait for it to be over. He could still feel that tightness in his chest, the kind caused by anger just as much as anxiety, but he tried to push that feeling down. He didn’t need to lash out right now; he just needed to keep a hold of Junior and wait for Tucker to come back in. Tucker could handle this.

But god, he _really_ wanted to punch that goddamn Charles kid in his _goddamn_ −

The door swung open, and Tucker walked back in. Wash heard the front door close, and looked to Tucker.

He sighed, leaning back against the door, brushing his dreads from his face, “Yeah, uh… Sorry about that. Charles is… a bit of prick, sometimes.”

“I uh, gathered,” Wash said. There was a beat of awkward silence, then Wash sighed, “Lavernius, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Tucker said. He stood up from the door, grabbing a beanbag from under a pile of clothes and tugging it over to sit in front of Wash. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, taking a breath, “This wasn’t _exactly_ how I saw my night going, y’know?”

Wash nodded, shuffling forward, “I know. I’m sorry Lavernius.”

“It’s not your fault. Shit happens,” Tucker shrugged. He took one more deep breath, then looked up with an awkward grin, “Guess I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

“Take it at your own pace Lavernius. There’s no rush,” Wash said, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The smile Tucker gave in return looked a little strained, but that quickly changed when Junior reached out towards his father with little whining noises; at that Tucker’s face positively lit up. Wash’s smile grew a little in response, “Here, take him.”

Tucker didn’t need to be told twice, scooping his son out of Wash’s arms and tucking him close to him. Wash felt a warmth in his chest at the look on Tucker’s face as he held Junior close, and had to stop himself from wiggling his hips where he sat. Tucker’s face was completely filled with love; that kid obviously meant a lot to him.

“So um,” He coughed, looking back to Wash, “Story time, huh?”

Wash just rested a hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze. Tucker chuckled a little.

“So… You know about the whole trans thing, that’s a conversation we’ve had, been there, done that, all that,” He said, shrugging a little, “So yeah, basically… I got knocked up. Junior’s like, just under eighteen months now? So like, just over two years ago I made a foolish decision – me, making a foolish decision, what a shocker huh? – and got myself knocked up.”

He gave Wash a self-deprecating grin, chuckling awkwardly.

“I hadn’t figured out that I was a guy yet? I mean I was _thinking_ about it but I was still in that phase of denial, y’know? I’d already gone through coming out to my mom and step-dad as bi, which hadn’t gone _all_ that great, so y’know… I was just taking shit as it came, whilst trying not to disappoint them,” He laughed a little at Junior tugged at one of his dreads, carefully prying it from his grasp and shaking his hands, “Hey, watch it kiddo. Anyway… So, I basically ended up getting a boyfriend to put their minds at rest. I was friends with the dude, it wasn’t like it was a bad relationship; actually it was pretty fucking fun! We were together for a while, then one thing lead to another and we ended up having sex. Annnnd I ended up knocked up, because we were idiots and didn’t use a condom,” A pause, “That was the foolish decision, by the way. Not the sex itself.”

Wash nodded, “Got it.”

“It was right around that time I finally accepted that I’m a guy,” Tucker continued, kissing Junior’s hands, “Which was _partly_ to do with the _giant fucking rush_ of dysphoria I was hit with when I found out I was knocked up. I uh, still can only call it knocked up actually; the actual word still makes me uncomfortable.”

“ _Ah_.”

“Yeah, ‘ah’. That wasn’t fun, like, at all. Combine that with both coming out to my family, _and_ telling them I was knocked up? That was a rough time. My mom and step-dad basically outright refused to call me by the right pronouns or name, once I’d picked one, with the excuse that ‘we’ll be looked at like we’re crazy if we call a knocked up woman a boy!’” He groaned and rolled his eyes, “So yeah, uh. You can see what kinda people they are. They supported me until I finished my A-Levels but after that I was basically on my own, I quote, ‘unless you get over this silly ‘ _trans’_ thing!’” He put on a voice that Wash could only assume was a mocking impression of his mother, then sighed, “So yeah, after that I basically moved out as soon as I could with what little I had saved up from working. I kept working to pay my rent and to save up for uni; luckily financial aid really came through for me when I applied, so I haven’t had to work as many hours since I started studying again.”

“Tucker… You could have told us the whole story from the start, you know that right?” Wash said, brow furrowed as he shuffled further forward. He cupped Tucker’s face, and Tucker leant into the touch, “We’d never judge you.”

Tucker sighed, giving him a smile, “Yeah David, I know. I was _gonna_ tell you, eventually. I just wanted it to be on my terms y’know?”

“Right. That makes sense,” Wash said, taking a breath, “What about Junior’s other father?”

“Oh, we broke up. It was a mutual thing,” Tucker said with a shrug, kissing Wash’s palm and nudging the hand away, “Dude was fine about the whole trans shit, he just wasn’t into guys. So we broke up. He sends money for Junior sometimes, but he’s never really wanted to be involved too much beyond that. I’m fine with that.”

Wash gave a nod and then, with his teeth tugging at his cheek, his brow knitted together, “And your family?”

“Still transphobic and homophobic. They would have a fucking heart attack if they knew about you and Mikey,” Tucker snorted, “Charles is… he’s better than them. He’ll come help me out if I need him to, all that, but you saw what he was like. That’s not the first time, and won’t be the last time, that he’s deadnamed me. When he’s not doing that or fucking up pronouns, he’s usually carrying messages for mom. Usually along the same lines as what I quoted her saying before.”

“Ah,” Wash said, flinching a little, “I’m sorry Lavernius.”

“Nah don’t be. I’m used to it at this point,” Tucker said dismissively, shaking his head, “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“Alright,” Wash said, sounding a little hesitant but not pressing further. There was a brief pause after that, until Wash spoke up again with his tone serious, “One more thing.”

Tucker raised a brow, “… _Wha_ t?”

“ _Junior_? Really, Tucker?”

Wash’s face split with a grin, and Tucker relaxed in an instant, laughing and shoving him.

“Oh shut up!”

* * *

“Alright, goodnight Mikey. I’ll be back on campus tomorrow, promise. Get some sleep,” Wash said, standing in Tucker’s kitchen with his phone to his ear. He smiled fondly, drumming his fingers against his side where his hand rested, “We love you too Mikey. Night.”

He hung up the call and folded his arms loosely, sighing. Caboose had sounded a little off, but he didn’t want to tackle whatever was bothering him over the phone; Caboose did much better in face to face discussions, and honestly he felt more comfortable with them himself. And, seeing as he didn’t have a car to drive back to the campus without leaving Tucker stranded, it would have to wait until tomorrow.

“He okay?”

Wash looked over his shoulder. Tucker stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, with a worried look on his face. Wash smiled a little, and gave a nod.

“Yeah, he’s fine. We’ll have to have a proper talk with him tomorrow, but for now he’s alright,” He said, tucking his phone back into his pocket and holding an arm out. Tucker walked over and buried his head against Wash’s side, wrapping his arms around him, “What’s Junior doing?”

“Playing with his toys,” Tucker said, voice muffled. Wash wrapped his arm around his shoulders and kissed his head, “I’ll put him to bed soon. He’d usually be in bed by now, but…”

Wash nodded, “Need any help?”

“I mean, I don’t _need_ it, but… if you like,” Tucker shrugged, “He needs to get used to you.”

“He was messing with my hair earlier,” Wash said, giving Tucker a squeeze before letting go. Tucker gave him a squeeze in return, then stepped back, “Gave me a smile too. He really has your smile.”

“Heh, you’re not the first person to have said that actually,” Tucker chuckled, “He apparently looks a lot like me. Lucky kid.”

Wash couldn’t help but smile at that, laughing and shaking his head, “ _Tucker_.”

Tucker just grinned.

“Alright come on, let’s go back to Junior,” Wash said, nodding towards the door. Tucker nodded, and the two headed back through to the living room.

It was coming up to midnight by now, after the long drive and everything that had happened when they arrived. Wash could see that Tucker was tired in the way he slumped where he sat, his drooping eyes on Junior as he played. He knew that he’d have to convince him it was time to go to bed soon, even if Wash knew that he himself was unlikely to fall asleep for at least a couple more hours. This had all been much rougher on Tucker that on him, anyway.

It was only when, just after midnight, Junior let out a big yawn and started to fall asleep where he was sitting that Tucker made a move. He scooped the sleepy toddler up with one of his toys, tucking him close, and nodded silently towards the stairs. Wash nodded, getting up and opening the door; he let Tucker pass through and head up the stairs before following.

Upstairs was even more cramped than downstairs had been. Wash had to follow right behind Tucker to be able to walk down the landing; the bathroom was barely big enough for the shower, toilet and sink it held; and the bedroom that appeared to be Tucker’s was only just large enough for the double bed and chest of drawers. In fact, the biggest room on the upper floor seemed to be Junior’s nursery.

The meaning behind that wasn’t at all lost on Wash.

“Time for bed lil’ man,” Tucker said quietly, bouncing Junior on his hip, “Let’s get you in your jammies.”

Tucker proceeded to balance him on his hip, holding him up with one arm, whilst grabbing a set of pyjamas from near the crib. Wash watched him struggle for a moment before sighing and speaking up.

“Tucker, I can hold him or get the pyjamas. You don’t have to struggle,” He said.

“Oh, right. Uh, can you grab his jammies?”

“Of course.”

A few minutes of fighting with a very reluctant and sleepy toddler, Junior was dressed in his alien-print pyjamas. Tucker passed him over to Wash so that he could sort out his crib, moving toys out of the way and sorting out his blankets. Wash stood rotating back and forth slightly, bouncing Junior gently and watching his sleepy face as he yawned again, rubbing his eyes and pouting a little.

Wash chuckled, “He’s got your pout too.”

Tucker didn’t reply, but as he glanced at the pair he was smiling. Wash looked like he was absolutely smitten with Junior, and the second that a very tired Junior reached up to boop Wash on the nose Tucker knew that the feeling was mutual. H grinned.

“That’s quite a sign of respect you just got,” He said, standing up with his arms folded, “Junior doesn’t give nose boops to just anyone.”

“Really?” Wash said, raising a brow.

“ _Really_. It’s a little thing he does. Only does it to people he really likes,” Tucker said, shrugging, “If you’re super- _duper_ special like me, he boops your nose with his nose. It’s adorable.”

“That is adorable,” Wash said, passing Junior back to Tucker. He watched as he kissed his son’s forehead and then laid him in his crib, one of his toys tucked under his arm and his blankets over him. It was as Junior finally dosed off that Tucker let out a big yawn, and Wash took his hand, “Come on, you’re tired too.”

“Mm’fine,” Tucker protested, only to yawn again. Wash gave him a look, “Oh shut up.”

Wash let Tucker lead him through to the bedroom, after turning on the cheap baby monitor by Junior’s crib. Wash sat on the edge of the bed as he changed into the pyjamas he was going to wear back at Wash’s flat, yawning several times as he did so.

“Mm, sorry, I don’t have anything your size,” He mumbled as he clambered onto the bed, kissing Wash quickly, “I’m smaller than you.”

“That’s fine,” Wash said, shaking his head, “You mind me just kicking off my jeans?”

“Yeah go ahead.”

And then he flopped down onto the bed with a thud.

Wash shook his head, getting up and taking off his jeans before joining Tucker on the bed again. He coaxed him to shift so that he could pull the covers over the two of them, and tucked him close to his chest. The smaller man was quick to make himself comfortable, burying his head against him and closing his eyes.

“Heh, all this and I still ended up in bed with you,” Tucker snorted, half asleep by now. Wash shook his head, draping an arm around him.

“Sleep, Tucker.”

“Mm, okay. Night David. Love you.”

“Love you too, Lavernius.”

Tucker smiled, slipping into a deeper sleep within minutes. Wash held him close, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He didn’t get to sleep until at least three in the morning. But Tucker was a familiar warmth beside him the whole time, so he figured it wasn’t so bad.


	6. Unitervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s another busy day at the University of Armonia. Tucker’s up bright and early, getting Junior ready to finally meet his father’s other partner, and talking to an old friend. Caboose is excited, well, sorta. And Doc has a bit of a rough morning - err, afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly yes we settled on it being Armonia university, despite this being set in England. Also this chapter has a lot more going on than originally planned, from introducing a couple things I didn’t wanna not include but am a lil’ nervous about getting right, and also something that was totally not planned when I wrote last chapter either. So this could be interesting.
> 
> (additional note, there's now an ongoing database of characters and their degrees, genders/sexualities, neurodiversities, and names up! [You can find it here](https://onedrive.live.com/view.aspx?resid=E9DB22CA9D7D28BA!463&ithint=file%2cdocx&app=Word&authkey=!AM1lwFmRHBrsgUo))

“Hey, no, you little rascal don’t you dare,” Tucker said, barely catching the sippy-cup before it fell onto the floor. He put it back on Junior’s high chair tray. Junior booped his nose, but Tucker simply ruffled his kid’s hair with a tut. “Nose boops do not get you out of stuff. That doesn’t go on the floor, little dude.”

“ _The mini-me causing you trouble huh? Sure you can handle it?_ ”

Tucker rolled his eyes, adjusting his phone where it was tucked between his ear and shoulder, “No more than usual, fucker. I’d like to see you do better. Also: He looks literally nothing you dude, he is _hardly_ a mini-you.”

“ _Pssh he totally has my eyes. Shape, not colour. And hey I never said I could do better_ ,” Church said with a laugh, followed by the sound of him adjusting his phone too, “ _Just wondering if you’re having a lil’ trouble._ ”

“Dude I’ve been doing this for 18 months, alone, believe me I can handle it,” Tucker said, wiping Junior’s mouth and putting his spoon back in his hand. Junior tried to give it back to him almost immediately, but with Tucker’s best ‘dad look’ he began to feed himself again. Tucker chuckled, “Besides, at least I’m up and doing shit. Are you even out of bed yet?”

“ _Yes_.”

“…Church, did you even sleep last night?”

“ _Maybe. No. Shut up._ ”

Tucked sighed, shaking his head and speaking whilst fighting Junior’s attempts to throw his sippy-cup again, “Church, dude, you gotta sleep man.”

“ _It’s called insomnia, buddy. Look it up._ ”

“Don’t be a smartass. You know what I mean. Don’t you have class today? And also homework to turn in for said fucking class?” He prised the sippy cup away from Junior’s grip mid-throw, putting it down next to him out of the way and grabbing his now empty bowl, “Did you get that done?”

“ _Dude, who are you, my mom? You became such a fucking mom-friend after the kid y’know,_ ” There was the sound of shuffling material, and a huff, “ _Anyway, yes I did get it done. Well, D did. He’s better at that stuff anyway._ ”

Tucker snorted a laugh, switching his phone to his other shoulder as he picked Junior up, “Isn’t that like, _cheating,_ dude?”

“ _What the teacher doesn’t know, won’t hurt me or my grades_ ,” Church said, and Tucker could almost see the smug look on his face and the way he shrugged, “ _Besides, they couldn’t prove shit. Still the same body writing it, try getting me for cheating for that motherfuckers._ ”

Tucker burst out laughing, nearly dropping his phone and his son at the same time. Church laughed in return, and this time Tucker knew he was rolling his eyes at the sounds of panic and chaos on his end of the line.

“You just nearly made me drop Junior don’t you fucking laugh at me now,” He said, without malice and with a grin on his face. Junior was giggling his head off, apparently having enjoyed nearly falling onto the floor, “Okay I’m gonna put you on speaker in a sec, gotta get Junior dressed. So behave.”

“ _Dude you’ve been swearing this whole time, and you’re telling_ me _to behave?_ ”

Tucker switched his phone to the other ear again, now able to hold it up as he carried Junior upstairs, “You bet your ass I am. You literally don’t have a verbal filter dude.”

“ _Oh shut up_ Lavernius _._ ”

“Just try and make me, _Leonard_.”

The pair snickered.

Tucker stood Junior on a stool in his nursery, ruffling his hair and putting the phone on speaker at the same time. He dumped the phone on top of the dresser nearby, and started grabbing Junior’s clothes.

“ _So he’s meeting the other boyfriend today?_ ”

“Datefriend.”

“ _Right, yeah, datefriend. Dude I still cannot_ believe _your taste in people; Caboose, really?_ Caboose?”

Tucker rolled his eyes, bumping the drawer shut with his hip and turning to Junior. He was relieved to see he hadn’t decided it was time to play hide and seek and had, in fact, stayed exactly where Tucker had put him. He waved the shirt he’d picked out, one covered in the little aliens from _Toy Story_ that he loved, and Junior beamed and began flapping his hands.

Tucker chuckled.

“Oh shut up Church, Caboose is a big sweetheart,” He said, tucking the shirt under his arm and starting to get Junior out of his night clothes, “And besides if anything should make you question my taste in people, it should be the fact I dated _you_.”

“ _Ouch, Tucker. That hurts. Got me right in the heart._ ”

“You’d have to have one for that.”

“ _Wow._ ”

Tucker snorted, tossing Junior’s night clothes in the vague direction of the crib and starting the daily fight to get him into his t-shirt. Junior simply wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to get the damn thing over his head, half the time; Tucker was used to it, by now.

“You totally opened yourself up to that one dude− Hey, you! Arm in the sleeve not the head hole!” Tucker said, making a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh as he directed the arm to the right hole, “Junior, you gotta work with me here kid.”

“ _He so gets that from you_.”

“And I’ve never denied it− Junior! Your other arm doesn’t go in the head hole either!”

There was a lot more struggling and a lot more laughter before Tucker finally coaxed Junior into his t-shirt. It was even more of both before he finally got him into his _jeans_ , and by the time he was fighting with his shoes and socks Church was listening in hysterics. It was a moment of triumph when, at last, the toddler was fully dressed and ready for the day ahead.

Tucker sighed in relief as he picked Junior up, settling him on his hip, “You do _not_ like to make life easy, do you kiddo?”

Junior grinned, booping their noses together. Tucker melted into a laugh, booping him right back.

“Damn you for being cute.”

“ _He totally just won you over with a nose boop again, didn’t he?_ ”

Tucker chuckled, picking the phone back up and turning it off speaker, “Yes he did. He knows my weaknesses, what can I say? Alright well, I need to get going, I have a forty minutes to an hour long drive with a fussy toddler ahead of me.”

“ _And I have another hour or more to just lie around doing shit all. Ah the benefits of living on campus._ ”

“Shut the fuck up dude,” Tucker rolled his eyes at Junior, who simply tilted his head, and grabbed the bag filled with Junior’s things from the side, “Tell Tex hi from me, and talk to you later?”

“ _Will do. Have a good day, fucker._ ”

“Right back at you, dickhead.”

* * *

Caboose was pacing around in circles, chewing his lip and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He’d been sitting down, like Wash had told him to do, but then he had not been sitting down. He was very restless he could not stay still at all, so he started to walk in circles instead, but now that was making him dizzy.

He stopped walking in circles. Instead he just stood there, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and watching the door. Wash had only gone downstairs a few minutes ago, he thinks? But he did not know how long he would be gone, because he did not know when Tucker was going to get there. He could be back at any moment! He did not know and he didn’t like not knowing.

He pouted, huffing a sigh and dropping down to sit cross legged on the floor. He would wait. He was patient!

And nervous. Also that.

It was another couple of minutes before Caboose could hear faint voices and the sound of the door unlocking. He perked up, moving onto his knees and leaning to get a better view. He bounced a little as the door swung open and the voices of his boyfriends became clearer, a grin spreading across his features. He opened his mouth to speak as soon as he caught a glimpse of them, well, them and−

His eyes widened.

“Well I’m sure Mikey can’t wait to meet you little guy,” Wash said, letting Tucker walk a few steps ahead and closing the door behind them, “Caboose loves meeting new friends−”

“Hey, Wash?”

“−though I guess this is a _little_ bit different, but…” Wash shrugged, turning back to Tucker, “What, Tucker?”

“I thought you said you left Caboose up here?”

Wash was immediately baffled, pushing past Tucker−knocking his shoulder in the process−and looking around his room. No immediate sign of Caboose, which, considering his size, was more than a little impossible. He had _definitely_ left Caboose here; he’d only been gone ten minutes and he was stood right by the doorway. How…?

And then he saw the top of Caboose’s head peek out over the far edge of the bed, and he slumped with a relieved sigh.

“There you are,” He said, walking around the end of the bed and standing over Caboose. Somehow he’d managed to his his entire massive frame behind the bed, _somehow_ , and he made no move to get up. So Wash compromised, crouching down to be about level with him, “What’re you doing back here, Mikey?”

“Baby.”

Wash blinked, “Baby?”

“There is a baby,” Caboose said, now pouting. Wash took a moment’s pause, brows furrowing a little.

“Well… yeah. That’s Junior, buddy. You’re meeting him today, remember?” He said, tilting his head a little, “Tucker brought him to campus especially.”

“Yeah and I got some right weird looks walking across campus too. Judgemental pricks,” Tucker chimed in.

Wash shook his head a little, “So why’re you hiding now he’s here, Mikey? You do want to meet him, right?”

“…Yes,” Caboose said, after a pause. He pouted a little more, and Wash couldn’t help but smile a little at how cute it made him look.

“Then come on,” He said, pulling himself back up to his feet and offering Caboose a hand. Caboose looked at it for a moment, and Wash could see him considering if he should take it or not, before he clasped Wash’s smaller hand in his. Wash felt himself relax, giving the hand a squeeze and pulling him up to his feet.

He coaxed him around to the more open part of the room, rather than the tiny gap between the side of the bed and the wall−seriously, how did he get himself down there? There he gave him a quick kiss and a smile, both of which were returned, and then looked to Tucker.

Caboose began shuffling awkwardly on his feet as soon as he looked away.

“Junior still up for this?”

Tucker chuckled, hoisting Junior further up his hip, “Dude he hasn’t stopped bouncing excitedly since we _left the house_. It’s making it difficult to keep hold of him. He’s _definitely_ up for meeting Mikey.”

Wash sighed and nodded, “Good, good.”

“Dude you’re more nervous about this than I am! I love you both, and this is my kid. Don’t worry so much,” Tucker said, kissing the top of Junior’s head as he placed the, practically vibrating, toddler down on the floor, “Go say hi to Mikey kiddo. Shoo.”

Junior toddled forward a few steps, his head tilted back so he could see Caboose way up there, towering above him. He looked a little in awe, almost, as he pottered over to him with his arms flailing a little at his sides to keep his balance. When he got to Caboose’s feet, his neck craned back as far as possible to be able to see him now, he grinned a toothy little grin.

And then _immediately_ began to climb his leg.

Caboose tensed up, standing stock still as Junior scaled his leg. Tucker burst out laughing. Wash’s mouth fell agape, noises that were probably meant to be coherent words the only thing that escaped him. Junior was completely un-phased and totally focused on his mission; mission: Climb Caboose.

“The−The baby is climbing me! Why is he climbing me? I am not a tree! Or a climbing frame! And he is very small and should not be climbing either of those things! Or me!” Caboose spluttered. He squeaked as Junior managed to reach his hip, and went dead still again, this time not even daring to speak.

“Uh, Tucker? Are you… You may wanna… uh…” Wash stumbled over his words as he tried to figure out a way to get Junior off of Caboose without accidentally sending him tumbling to the floor.

Tucker, to his credit, tried to respond, but the second he opened his mouth he just began to laugh even harder.

Meanwhile Junior had managed to pull himself up to Caboose’s chest, his feet digging into his side and his stomach but apparently not bothering Caboose all that much. He clung onto the material of his shirt with one hand, whilst with the other reaching up to Caboose’s face. He was _just_ close enough to reach.

And so he was able to boop Caboose on the nose.

It was like Caboose was suddenly reactivated. His nose twitched, he blinked a couple of times, and then he looked at Junior. Junior grinned back at him, and in all his toddler wisdom let go of Caboose’s shirt to flap his hands; luckily, Caboose didn’t even let him begin to fall before tucking him against his side.

Tucker, still muffling some laughter, raised a brow and watched hopefully. Caboose and Junior looked at each other for a long moment, until Caboose received a _second_ nose boop and Caboose pouted.

“He is still very small! And− And−” He looked between Tucker and Wash, both of whom were now chuckling and smiling fondly, and his pout grew, “Shush! He− Tucker will you take your cute baby because I do not want to hurt him?”

Tucker chuckled, shaking his head as he walked over, “You won’t hurt him Mikey.”

“Please.”

Tucker took Junior from him anyway, kissing him quickly as he did so. Caboose leant into the kiss, but didn’t resist as Tucker stepped back and settled Junior comfortable on his hip.

“You know Mikey, getting a nose boop means he _really_ likes you,” He said, rocking from side to side a little and kissing the top of Junior’s head. He saw Caboose perk up out of the corner of his eye, and grinned, “He only does that to people he likes a _lot_ , and even Wash only usually gets one at a time. You got _two_.”

“Well… of course he likes me I am very nice!” He said, folding his arms and puffing out his cheeks, “Ah, um, little Tucker is very nice and very cute. He is also just very small and I am not and I do not know how to take care of a baby and and−”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Wash said, taking Caboose’s hand in his. Caboose looked to him, squeezing the hand, “You’re not going to have to look after Junior alone or anything, okay? And you can take time to get used to him and to get more comfortable. There’s no rush here.”

Caboose seemed to consider this information for a moment, before nodding, “Well, okay then. I like little Tucker.”

Tucker grinned.

It wasn’t long before the trio were back to their normal antics, the slightly tense atmosphere none of them had realised had even formed completely fading away. Junior pottered around the room, exploring every nook and cranny and clambering onto everything he could find. Wash looked like a deer in headlights every time Junior wobbled even slightly, and Tucker had to keep reassuring him−usually whilst laughing−that Junior was fine, that he did this all the time. Wash said he believed him, but he still went as if to move every time.

They’d been sitting around chatting and playing with Junior for a while, Caboose still keeping a fair distance, when Tucker groaned and flopped back on the bed.

“Okay I’m restless now.”

Wash poked him in the side with his foot, making him curl up a little and laugh, “Okay then, what do you propose we do now, Tucker?”

“I dunno. Let’s go for a walk or something. Show Junior around the campus,” He shrugged, swatting at the foot as it came back for another prod, “Get some fresh air.”

“Sounds alright to me. Caboose?”

“I think that would be very nice,” Caboose agreed, nodding.

“Alright then,” Tucker said with a grunt, pushing himself to sit up, “Let me get Junior’s shoes back on− uh, if I can find them wherever he kicked the fucking things− then let’s go!”

As it turns out Junior had somehow managed to get his shoes under the bed, which in turn turned out to be a fun five minutes clambering under said bed to reach them. With that sorted, however, they were able to head outside and begin their walk around campus.

It was quiet; it was a common class period right now, so many people were already tucked away in lecture halls and seminar rooms or otherwise occupied. As it was so quiet Junior was allowed to walk between Tucker and Wash, holding his father’s hand and looking around with wide eyes at the new surroundings. Tucker pointed things out to him; he gave silly descriptions, rather than the real ones, which were entertaining Caboose just as much as they were Junior. Wash couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he wanted to.

They went around all the faculty buildings, saying hi to Sheila and Lopez as they bumped into them along the way and with Junior waving to every friendly face they saw. Tucker would pick him up to show him the insides of rooms, and so Junior would wave at the people in there too. When Tucker held him up to look into one of the animation department’s computer rooms he even waved at the solitary student sitting there, who jumped when they saw the group at the window and made Tucker duck down whilst laughing.

Locus was a little confused, to say the least.

Their last stop on their little tour was the car park outside Grif and the other’s block, a stop made for the express purpose of letting Tucker yell at their window until someone’s head popped out. Junior sat on his shoulders giggling the whole time, whilst Wash groaned and averted his eyes awkwardly from everyone who was now giving Tucker annoyed glances for the racket. Luckily, or not depending on how you looked at it, Donut popped out of the window after less than a minute.

“Oh hi Tucker! Hi Wash, Caboose!” He said with a beaming smile, waving one hand whilst leaning on the window frame with the other, “Ooh! Is that Lavernius Junior?”

“Sure is,” Tucker said, squeezing Junior’s legs where they hung over his chest, “Been showing him around. Where’re the others? Usually I annoy Grif out first.”

“Oh he’s on a phone call,” Donut shrugged, “Simmons is doing work, and Doc is still in bed. Hey can I come meet the little guy later? I’ve got company right now, buuut…”

“Yeah sure. Wash, that okay with you? I mean, it’s your room,” Tucker said, looking to Wash. Wash nodded.

“Fine by me.”

“Awesome! I’ll text you when I’m coming! Oh I’ll probably walk with my visitor to his class so I think I’ll be coming in the back entrance, will that be a problem?” Donut asked, tilting his head.

There was a moment’s pause before Wash called back, “Uh, yeah of course.”

“Great! Okay see you then!” He said, giving one more wave before ducking back inside.

The three stood there for a moment, looking at each other with similarly confounded looks on their faces. It was Tucker who finally broke the silence, a brow raised and his eyes flicking between the others and the window.

“I… He’s gotta know, right? He _has_ to know he does that. He does it _way_ too often to not know, right?” He said.

“I… I’d think so? But you think he’d stop if he knew, right?” Wash added, scratching the back of his head.

“You’d think so? But uh.”

“I think I would like to go inside now,” Caboose said, his brow still furrowed. The other two nodded, shaking their heads and putting Donut’s unusual speech patterns out of their mind for now as they headed back inside.

* * *

The sound of a raised voice drifted in through the thin wood of his door. Doc groaned, burying himself deeper under the covers and pulling them tight around his head to try and block out the noise. His head was fuzzy, not really aching or anything, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. When he dared to take a peek out of the dark, secluded world of the space beneath his covers he immediately flinched away from the bright light. But, with a sigh and a glance at the clock on his bedside table, he forced himself to throw the covers off and sit up.

He fumbled for his glasses, wiping them clean on his shirt and slipping them on. The world became clearer, but his head was still fuzzy and it was an effort to pull himself to his feet.

As soon as he did he almost tripped over the pile of books stacked not a foot away from the bed, barely catching himself in time to stop himself falling flat on his face. He scratched his neck, brows knitting as he looked at the pile.

“Ohhh, what…? When did I…?” He mumbled to himself. He looked up again, glancing around his room until his eyes fell on his desk. It was covered in papers, and his laptop was sat open among them, “What…?”

He walked over to the desk, pressing the power button on his laptop at the same time as he shuffled some of the papers around. He rubbed his forehead as he tried to focus on the words in front of him, picking up one piece of work to take a closer look. When his eyes focused, he finally registered the messy scrawl that covered the work.

“Shit…” He breathed, dropping his hand to the desk.

Well that explained a few things.

He shoved all of the papers into a messy pile and logged his laptop off, changing into some lazy clothes and making a vain attempt to tame his hair. Then, with a deep sigh, he headed out of his room.

“Oh look who it is,” Grif, apparently the source of the voice that had woken him in the first place, said, “The hell have you been?”

“Uh, my room?” Doc said with a shrug, “Just… slept in late. You woke me up, actually. Who’re you talking to?”

Grif rolled his eyes, nodding to the phone he was currently covering the mouthpiece of, “Trying to talk to the new landlord dude about the house. I mean the dude clearly fucking hates me, but Simmons’ socially anxious ass can’t do phone calls and I’m not gonna make him, so… Whatcha gonna do?”

“Oh, right. Uh, where’s Franklin?”

“Communal area,” Grif said, nodding in the vague direction of it. Doc heard a raised voice come from the other end of the phone, and Grif groaned and held it away from his ear for a moment, “Yes ‘Sarge’ I’m still− Hey I’m still here!”

Doc watched him wander down the hallway, then turned and headed the other direction. He heard voices from the communal area as he approached the door, Donut’s and another familiar voice. The other four members of their unit were usually out at lectures around now, so it wasn’t hard to figure out Donut had a visitor before he even pushed the door open.

“Oh hey, look who’s out of bed,” Felix said, holding a hand up in a half wave. Doc awkwardly waved in return, closing the door behind him.

Donut spun around, kneeling up on his chair, “Frank! Oh there you are, I was beginning to get worried!”

“Heh, sorry,” Doc chuckled awkwardly, “I guess I was just super tired, I didn’t mean to sleep in this long.”

“Frank, it’s more than just you sleeping in! You went AWOL at like, _eight o’clock_ last night! No one could get you to open your door, we wondered if you were even in there,” Donut said. He looked worried, genuinely worried, and Doc swallowed hard.

Well, he supposed it could have been worse?

“Ah, I’m sorry Donut I mustn’t have been feeling quite myself last night,” He said, giving a smile, “I had a _lot_ of work to get done, I probably had my headphones in or something to block out any interruptions. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Oh you silly boy you,” Donut rolled his eyes, hopping up from his seat and walking to give Doc a quick kiss, “I’ll knock you up some coffee, go sit down. Also I forbid you from working for at least the rest of the day.”

“Franklin−”

Donut put a finger to his lips, “Nu-uh, no protesting! Go on, go sit down.”

Doc held his hands up in a sign of surrender, and Donut grinned. He gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, and then popped off over to the kitchen portion of the room. Humming quickly filled the room.

“Felix, you wanna keep testing me on my lines? I was all riled up and ready to go a second ago,” Donut said whilst stretching to grab the kettle, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Sure thing,” Felix replied, grabbing the papers from the coffee table and shaking them straight, “Alright, so−”

Doc simply sat down and sat back, listening as Felix recited the relevant lines from the script and Donut responded with his own. His head was still fuzzy, and there was a lot on his mind, but for now he let himself sit back, relax, and enjoy listening to Donut’s expressive acting.


	7. Unicertainy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the year is slowly getting closer, everything is picking up from work to relationships... and Wash, Tucker and Caboose still don’t have a house lined up for next year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact I based the house tour part of this, and the house, off my own house hunting experience and house for next year. That’s my version of doing research for this AU, apparently!
> 
> ([Sign Translations](http://autisticblueteam.tumblr.com/private/147369351912/tumblr_oaa6cxcO4O1umch04))

An alarm blared, abruptly disturbing the silence of the morning. Donut’s face scrunched up as the warm body beneath him shifted, more bothered by the sudden movement than by the sudden sound. An arm tucked him closer as the body leant over him, a motion shortly followed by the equally abrupt end of the alarm, before they dropped back against the bed with a thud and a sigh.

“Sorry, Frankie, I guess I forgot to turn it off,” Doc said through a yawn, kissing the top of Donut’s head. He wrinkled up his nose as his hair tickled his face.

Donut shook his head sleepily, Doc’s whole face crumpling as it tickled him more, “Mm it’s _fine_ Frank, don’t worry. My alarm is _much_ louder than that.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” He said, opening his eyes and looking up at Doc with a smile, “The noise honestly didn’t bother me in the _slightest_ , my hearing ear was against _you_ silly, it was mostly muffled!”

“Oooh, right,” Doc chuckled, his smile growing but also becoming embarrassed, “Well, I’ll make sure to turn it off next time, anyway.”

“Oh so there’s going to be a next time?” Donut said, his smile spreading into a cheeky grin that made Doc’s cheeks darken and a laugh bubble out between his lips.

“Well, yeah, I mean− uh− if you want there to be? I mean− Mm!” He’s cut off by the gentle press of Donut’s lips against his, a touch he gladly leans into with a content sigh. A hand cups the side of his neck, fingers playing with one of the tight curls of his hair, and he cupped his hand around the back of Donut’s head in turn.

The kiss is calm and loving and holds for a long moment before Donut finally pulls away, a giggle on his lips as he rests his head against his boyfriend’s.

“Of course I want there to be a next time, silly! I slept very well last night, you’re very warm and _very_ cuddly,” He said, pecking his lips softly, “I could definitely get used to this.”

Doc smiled, “Well… Good. I think I could too.”

Donut beamed, lacing his fingers back into Doc’s hair and tilting his head; Doc was quick to get the hint, leaning in for another kiss−

Knuckles rapped hard against the door, “Hey assholes! You gonna come and eat breakfast any time soon? Or you too busy bumping uglies still?”

Both young men sighed. Donut dropped his head against Doc’s chest, and Doc kissed the top of his head before turning his attention to Grif.

“We’re coming, just give us a few minutes.”

“If you’re not out in ten minutes I’m gonna eat yours too,” Grif said, giving the door one more rap of his knuckles. The cushioned sound of footsteps reached them moments later as he walked away.

“I knew they’d think we had sex,” Doc sighed, “Sorry, Frankie.”

“Oh shush you, it’s not your fault,” Donut kissed Doc’s cheek, giving him a reassuring smile, “I was expecting as much, too. People make assumptions, even friends. It doesn’t change a thing, okay?”

“If you’re sure…” Doc said, watching Donut sit up and stretch out. Donut looked back over his shoulder at him, raising a brow with a playful smirk. Doc chuckled, holding his hands up, “Alright, alright, you’re sure.”

“Besides,” Donut said, standing up and stretching out with a yawn, “It just means I have an excuse to mess with them a _little_ more than usual! You know, a little revenge.”

Doc chuckled, shaking his head and getting up, “Don’t be _too_ mean, Frankie. Even if their expressions are funny.”

Donut’s only reply was a wink.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes for the two to get dressed, Donut having brought clothes for the day with him when he came to stay the night before and Doc simply pulling on some of the clothes thrown over his desk chair. They chatted idly as they left the room and headed down the hall to the kitchen, Donut walking backwards the whole way, so far as to end up knocking the door to the kitchen open with his butt.

“Morning!” He said in a cheery sing-song voice, one that made Doc have to muffle a snort of laughter. He knew what that voice meant; they were in for Donut’s best today, “Sorry we’re late, we had a _bit_ of a sticky situation to deal with! Y’know, as it turns out two people fitting into one of these beds isn’t easy! The _positions_ we had to try to be able to sleep comfortably, my oh my.”

Grif and Simmons immediately shared a look, and Doc found it extremely hard not to start laughing. An innocent smile was spread across Donut’s face, and he practically skipped over to the kitchen to grab the plate of bacon butties and the bowl of Doc’s cereal. Grif and Simmons’ glanced at him, then back at each other, and Doc allowed himself another muffled snort when they weren’t looking. After a moment they seemed to shake it off, going back to their own bacon butty and tofu breakfast sandwich as Doc and Donut sat down across from them.

“Perhaps you could give us some tips!” Donut then said, casual as anything as he handed Doc his bowl and began to eat. Grif and Simmons immediately froze, “I mean,” He swallowed, waving a hand, “You guys are _always_ staying over in each other’s room, surely you must have some _technique_ as to how you always fit into your beds?”

Doc stuffed a big spoonful of cereal into his mouth to keep quiet, whilst Grif and Simmons began to splutter excuses and other nonsense. Donut’s smile widened and he giggled to himself, winking at Doc when he was sure the others wouldn’t notice and continuing to eat.

After a couple of minutes of hapless stumbling and attempts at excuses, however, Doc decided to put their friends out of their misery.

“So uh, how’s Tucker and the other’s house hunt been going? You talk to him most, Grif,” He said, leaning back.

Grif shrugged a little, tapping his fingers idly against the table, “Still shit outta luck. As it turns out trying to find student accommodation with a kid is fucking hard, who knew, huh?”

“But Junior’s such a little sweetheart! You think he’d win _anyone_ over with just a little smile!” Donut said, making vague hand gestures as he went.

“Small children often come with a lot of extra mess and potential for property damage,” Simmons said with a shrug, adjusting his glasses. He had on his best ‘matter-of-fact’ voice, that Grif had dubbed his ‘I’m a pretentious little prick’ voice; affectionately, of course, “Some contracts actually have a clause against bringing small children into the home under the same clause as pets! It’s simply a matter of, well, liability? Liability.”

“Simmons? Shut up,” Grif said, shoving him playfully and with a roll of his eyes, “But yeah, I gave them ‘Sarge’s’−Sarge, jesus christ it’s like we’re living in a video game−number since he was _okay_ with us, I suppose. He’s been fine with the disabilities shit, at least. Don’t know how he’ll react to a kid, though. I think they’re going to see one of his places today?”

“Well, hopefully they can figure out their issue with a little good ol’ fashioned teamwork! It’ll be a _big_ relief once everything is said and done,” Donut said, taking another bite of his breakfast.

Grif and Simmons shared looks again, and Doc just hid a laugh behind his hand.

* * *

Wash rifled through his bag, double checking that he had everything he needed, as he stepped out of his room. He stuck his key card between his teeth and leant against the heavy door to let it close slowly, sighing in slight relief when it shut with nothing but a quiet click of the lock and standing straight again. He gave his bag one last look through before nodding to himself, satisfied he had everything, and then−

He looked up and almost jumped out of his skin, before laughing breathlessly as he registered the familiar face.

“Virginia, hi, sorry,” He said, putting his key card in his pocket, “Didn’t see or hear you come over, kinda scared myself a little.”

Virginia’s eyes rolled behind her glasses, and she gave Wash a playful look. She adjusted her own bag so she could raise her hands, pointing at her own chest and then tips of her fingers crossing over her mouth before both hands move down in a quick, exaggerated swipe. Then she pointed off vaguely to their dominant side; then with all of her fingers except her pinkie touching her thumb thrust her hand forward; her hand then curled into a fist and moved from her chin to cover her lips.

Wash chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, very funny. You’re definitely pretty damn sneaky, non-verbal or not.”

Virginia shrugged, grinning. She touched her fingers to her bottom lip and then lowered her hand in an outwards curve; curling her last three fingers of each hand into a fist she turned her hands palm up, tapping her index fingers and thumbs together twice; then finally with her three middlemost fingers down, thumb and pinkie out, she dropped her hands from her upper chest to her ribs and then folded one flattened hand and forearm over the other.

“House hunting, again,” Wash said, signing along with his words. He gestured vaguely along the hallway, and the two began to walk as they talked, “Every place we’ve seen so far hasn’t been very… accommodating? To our needs?”

Virginia’s fingers bent horizontally, moving from chest height to waist height; then held her hand up, curled into a fist but with her thumb pushed up between her index and middle fingers. Her brow was raised.

Wash sighed, “Yeah, because of Junior. The first few places we looked at were… shocked to see we had a toddler with us, and whilst they showed us around we could tell they didn’t really want to. After that we started telling them in advance and getting noes straight off.”

Virginia frowned, curling her three middlemost fingers over again and twisting her hand twice with her thumb pointed towards her nose.

“Ridiculous is one word for it,” Wash said, shaking his head. They turned the corner, through the door at the end of the hallway, and began heading down the stairs, “Tucker’s found us somewhere else to look at though, thanks to Grif and the others, from the block by the carpark? And the landlord didn’t say no when he mentioned Junior so…”

He shrugged a little. Virginia gave a nod of understanding.

“How about you?” He asked. At the bottom of the stairs he went ahead and pressed the button to open the doors, opening it and letting her through.

She turned to walk backwards, gesturing vaguely at her bag−which Wash now noticed looked heavily weighed down−before holding up an ‘L’ sign and circling it clockwise. She mimed lifting the brim of a hat with both hands and then swiped her hands down the side of her torso in straight lines, followed by pressing the fingers of one hand against the same thumb and then pressing it to her cheek, moving it over her nose to repeat the motion on the other cheek. Finally she swiped her index and middle finger from one hand over those of the other; touched the thumb and the tips of her curved fingers to a vertical hand in a vague backwards ‘P’ shape, and then mimed drawing a sharp line down the same hand with one curled over finger.

Wash cursed, “ _Shit_ , I forgot about that essay.”

Virginia rolled her eyes, folding her arms and giving him a pointed look.

“Oh shut up,” Wash huffed, grabbing the front of her beanie and pulling it down over her face.

Virginia squeaked and batted at his hands, but quickly started to laugh as she pulled it back up only for Wash to drag it down again. Every time she pulled it back up he pulled it back down, sending both of them into fits of giggles that continued even as they left the building. In fact, Virginia’s face was still covered by her beanie when Caboose spotted the pair, which meant that the hug that followed caught her completely off guard.

“Fluid buddy! Hello!” He said excitedly, hugging her tightly and lifting the poor, 5’1” student completely off the ground. Her feet were pointed as they strained to touch the ground, and she grasped onto him by instinct.

She laughed once she realised who it was, however, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. She gave him a tap on the back of the head after a moment, and he placed her carefully back on the floor.

When he could see her, Virginia waved up at him. She held a hand out open in front of her chest, moving it in a loose curve to touch her chest and curling it so her fingers touched her thumb; she followed this by making a flowing swoop to her dominant side with both hands, flat with their palms downwards and then finally interlocked her index fingers twice, flipping her hands between the motions. She then moved an open hand in a circle over her face, her fingers closing to meet on her thumb over her mouth before blooming out like a flower, quickly followed by pointing at his chest.

Caboose looked to Wash, and Wash chuckled.

“She said ‘hi genderfluid friend, you look pretty’,” He translated, raising a brow at her, “I think? That was… Trans and flow, right?”

Virginia smiled and nodded.

Caboose’s face lit up. He swung his hips a little, fluffing out the skirt he was wearing, “Thank you! I like looking pretty.”

Virginia giggled, sharing a smile with Wash before shaking her head; she pointed at her chest, curled her hand into a fist with just a half curled index finger extended and tapping it against the air in front of her, followed finally by raising both hands with index fingers extended and moving them forward in a quick arc. With two fingers in the shape of a V she tapped the skin beneath her eye and then lowered her middle finger and raised her thumb in one fluid motion as she moved her hand forward.

“See you later, good luck with your essay!” Wash said, waving as she turned and headed off towards the library. When she was gone, he turned his attention back to his datefriend and smiled, “Hey Mikey, do I get a proper hello or…?”

Caboose kissed him without another word, and Wash felt a little of the lingering tension in his shoulders melt away at the familiar contact. He leant into the kiss, brushing a hand through his hair, and almost sighed when he pulled away with a grin.

“Good morning Washingtub,” He said, his grin cheeky. Wash chuckled.

“Morning Caboose,” He paused, looking around, “Wait, is Tucker not here yet?”

Caboose shook his head, “Nope! He was not here when I got here and he has not come since, I do not know where he is.”

“Huh,” Wash’s brow furrowed, “Weird, Tucker’s not usually late. Have you called him?”

“I do not have pockets,” Caboose replied with a solemn shake of his head, patting his skirt. Wash’s expression became bemused, so Caboose continued, “I do not have my phone because skirts do not get pockets, it is very annoying.”

“…We’re gonna sew you some pockets one day,” Wash said after a moment’s pause, whilst digging out his own phone. He quickly found Tucker’s number, swiping his finger across the screen and bringing the phone to his ear. He chewed his cheek a little as he waited for it to dial through, at least until Caboose popped the chew from around his neck into his mouth for him. He chuckled at that.

“ _I’m coming, I’m coming_ ,” Was the first thing that Tucker said as the line connected, “ _Meet me by the car? I’ve kinda been here for a while, I remembered suddenly that I had to turn in a sociology essay like… an hour ago. Professor Vegas’ essay. You know, the one who has existential break downs in class occasionally? Yeah, I had to make a dash for a computer room._ ”

“Well hello to you too, Lavernius,” Wash said, rolling his eyes, “Alright, we’ll meet you over there.”

“ _Sorry, I’ll say hello properly when I get there. See you in a minute or two_ ,” He said, before hanging up.

Wash shook his head, slipping his phone back into his pocket, “Come on Caboose, we’re meeting him by the car.”

By the time they got to the car, Tucker was approaching from one of the other paths with Junior on his hip. He greeted both of his datefriends with a quick kiss, passing Junior to Wash as he unlocked the car.

“Sorry, I totally got her on time but then I remembered the essay and well…” He sighed and shrugged, taking Junior back and fastening him into his car seat, “You got the address?”

Wash nodded, digging out a notebook as he got into the front seat. Tucker started the car as soon as he and Caboose were buckled in, backing out of the lot and heading out of the university. Wash typed the address into his phone’s map app, giving Tucker the first few sets of instructions at once.

“Thanks man,” Tucker took a breath, “We’ll still be on time so all’s good. Sorry, normally I’d have done it at home last night but I _totally_ forgot, Junior was being a bit of a pain in the butt. A cute pain in the butt, but a pain in the butt. I mean, I’m usually done a couple days before but we’re closing in on the end of the year and−”

“Hey, no worries,” Wash said, reaching over and giving one of his hands a squeeze, “I was a little late myself, and I also learned from Virginia that I actually have an essay I forgot even existed. You’re fine.”

Tucker took another breath and nodded, “Right, okay. So, think we’ll be lucky today?”

“I have my hopes up a little higher than usual, considering he didn’t say no when we mentioned Junior,” Wash said, giving Tucker the next few directions. He peered back into the back seat, smiling at Caboose as he let Junior chew on his finger. He’d been getting better with Junior lately, “Plus I think we have to just hope at this point, we’re getting this sorted a lot later than anyone else. It’s a miracle we found anywhere with openings so close to the end of the year.”

“True,” Tucker said, “If it comes to it I can renew my lease on my place, but it’s… well, you’ve seen it, there’s not much room. The three of us would struggle to live there comfortably, plus I’d… really like the chance to get further away from my family.”

Wash nodded, squeezing his hand again. Tucker gave him a smile.

The drive wasn’t long; the property was only about twenty to thirty minutes’ walk away, and so it was only about ten minutes’ drive with traffic and a couple of wrong turns. When they pulled up to the terraced property they could see an old, gruff looking man standing in the semi-covered porch. There was definitely a scar of some kind marring the light brown skin of his face, and he was wearing dog tags.

“Guess that explains the name,” Tucker commented, parking the car and grabbing his keys, “Caboose, you wanna unbuckle Junior?”

“Yes I will unbuckle the Smaller Tucker,” Caboose said with a nod, fiddling with the straps and buckles on Junior’s seat as the other two got out of the car. Junior grinned up at him.

“Sarge, right?” Wash said, kicking his door closed behind him and circling the car. He offered a hand as the man walked over, and he almost jumped at the extremely firm grip and shake he received.

“David Washington, huh?” Sarge said, grunting and only letting his hand go after nearly a solid thirty seconds of vigorous shaking. Wash subtly flexed his hand when he was free, “That the kiddo, I’m assuming?” He added, nodding towards the car. Caboose had come around to the side on the pavement and had gathered him up, which had been enough to earn him a nose boop.

“Yeah, that’s Junior,” Tucker piped in, locking the car with a quick button press when Caboose closed the door, “I’m his dad.”

“Uh-huh,” Sarge said, just nodding, “Well now, I’ve never had a littlun in one of my student lets before, but there’s a first time for everything I s’pose. C’mon in, see if the place suits yer needs.”

He waved them forward, walking up to the house and unlocking it. Tucker, Wash and Caboose all shared looks before following, now more than a little hopeful that they’d finally found somewhere they could actually work with.

“This is one of the last properties I got open,” Sarge explained as he walked them inside, closing the door behind them, “Your friends, the orange one and such, are across the street.”

“Orange−? Oh, Grif, right. He does wear a strange amount of orange now that I think about it…” Tucker said, frowning a little in thought. Wash elbowed him in the side as Sarge kept talking.

“Three bedrooms, one is through there,” He gestured to the first door on their left, nudging it open, “Take a look. They’re all about that size, give or take a little. Same basic fittings, yadda yadda.”

Wash let Tucker stand in front of him as they looked into the room. There was a double bed; a wardrobe and a chest of drawers; a desk; the usual things you’d expect, essentially. ‘Yadda yadda’, as Sarge had put it. But the room size was decent, the furnishings didn’t make it cramped looking, and it wasn’t decorated garishly or anything.

“Looks good,” Tucker said, just loud enough for Wash to hear. Wash nodded.

“Tucker the Smaller Tucker is trying to climb the stairs!” Caboose then called from the hallway, apparently having put the toddler down and given him just enough time to escape, “He is very fast.”

“Whoa there littlun,” Sarge said, climbing up after him and scooping him up. Junior pouted, flailing his legs and arms a little in an attempt at resistance until Sarge had him settled on his side, “We’ve gotta show yer dads the ground floor first kiddo. Slow down a little, huh?”

Tucker blinked a little, watching Sarge come back down and taking his son back when he was offered him.

“There ya go, might be an idea to keep holda him, little adventurer,” Sarge chuckled, heading down the hall to the other two doors, “Follow me.”

The rest of the house could be described much the same way as the first bedroom. The family room was a decent size, with basic furnishings such as a decent TV and a sofa, and it had a door that opened up onto the small walled in garden out back. The kitchen was narrow, but decorated cleanly and equipped with a decent fridge, oven and a washer-dryer. The bedrooms upstairs were the same as the first bedroom, give or take some space and with one missing the wardrobe, and the bathroom was simple but matching the standard of the rest of the house.

It didn’t take long for them to start talking between themselves about it, or for Caboose to bagsy the room at the front of the upper floor−even though they knew they’d all end up sharing more often than not, anyway. They figured that, with Sarge’s permission, one room could easily be made into Junior’s without even removing the bed and thus giving them somewhere to sleep if they had to stay with Junior for any reason. That, and the rent was only £89 a week, including all of their bills, and even including a slight bump up in price Sarge mentioned to account for Junior’s presence it would be much cheaper than anywhere else they’d seen and cheaper than their current rents.

And so it didn’t take long at all for them to decide that this house was what would work best for them.

“We’d like to sign on.”

They’d got the contract signed by the end of the day, and finally, _finally,_ they had one less thing to worry about.


	8. Uni Are Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only five weeks left of term, there’s a lot going on. Deadlines are approaching. Exams are on the horizon. Oh, and Wash hasn’t been seen in three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s probably the heaviest chapter yet? It deals with a lot of stuff I also personally dealt with in the latter part of my first year at university. It’s also the longest chapter yet by nearly double.
> 
> **Warnings:** Disordered eating; Self Harm (via impact); Hallucinations (audio); Disassociation; Self-Isolation
> 
> [Sign Translations](http://autisticblueteam.tumblr.com/private/148356214412/tumblr_obalqnFA5r1umch04)

_[6 Missed Calls – Tucker, Caboose]_

_[5 New Messages]_

Wash sighed, digging his teeth into his chew as he swiped the notifications off of the screen. Almost immediately the screen lit up with another call, Tucker and Junior’s grinning faces staring at him from the caller ID. He bit down harder on the chew, letting it ring out so that he could turn off the vibration as well as the sound and then throw it to the end of his bed.

With that taken care of his attention returned to the laptop sat in front of him. His current essay was on the Cold War, specifically on the impact of individual world leaders on the Cold War, and was meant to be two thousand words. Right now, he only had two _hundred_.

He sighed again, letting his chew drop from his mouth and massaging his jaw as he flicked back to his fact list. And then back to his essay. And then back to his fact list.

“Goddammit…”

He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths and rocking back and forth to get himself back to a certain level of calm. He could do this. There was no reason at all for him to be panicking, the essay wasn’t due until next week, but−

His eyes flicked to the clock in the bottom corner of his screen on reflex, and widened.

“Shit!”

He scrambled to his feet, closing his laptop harder than he really should have and shoving off his sleep pants. He grabbed his jeans and tugged them on, barely avoiding falling over, and shoved his feet into his slip-on trainers. His laptop was slid hastily into his laptop bag and he only remembered to grab his ID card right before he left. He almost fell down the stairs on his way out and almost fell _up_ the steps that lead to the library, and even managed to nearly collide with the automatic doors in his haste.

Maine was waiting at their usual spot, and had apparently been watching the door as they saw Wash coming the second he entered the building. The worried look on their face made Wash curse himself, his teeth digging into his cheek and his chest growing tighter than it already was. God _dammit_.

“Sorry, sorry, I totally lost track of time,” Wash said as he approached, dropping his laptop bag onto the table with a thud. He didn’t look at Maine, instead busying himself getting his laptop out and setting it up, “I was just working on my essay−” He closed out of the essay quickly, “−I’m on like 500 words, so it’s not going so badly. I mean, still a way to go but−”

A hand on his wrist stopped him, “It’s alright.”

He looked up at Maine for the first time since reaching the table, and got a reassuring look in return. So he sighed, took a deep breath in, and nodded.

“Right, sorry.”

Maine shook their head, raising their hands. They tapped their index fingers against their respective thumbs; then with their fingers curled slightly and their thumb extended they vaguely mimed typing on a keyboard; finally followed by bending their three middlemost fingers down, thumb and pinkie out, and dropping their hands from their upper chest to their ribs and then folded one flattened hand and forearm over the other.

Wash held a hand up at shoulder height, palm facing him, and with his other thumb tucked in but his fingers extended he swiped vertically and then horizontally across his palm. Maine gave him a nod, and sat back to let him get up the relevant document.

“Alright, so… I have four essays left, and then my exam,” Wash said, glancing to his side as Maine shuffled over to get a better look at the screen. Their presence was familiar enough to let Wash relax a little, muscles loosening just slightly even as his chest grew tighter, “And four and a half weeks left of term.”

“Enough time,” Maine said, hands following along as they always did.

Wash just about managed a smile and a nod, “Yeah, yeah enough time. So, um… let’s work out the best way to go about this, then.”

With that they got to work filling out a blank edition of Wash’s usual schedule. It was something that Maine had suggested early on in their time working together; the schedule gave Wash goals for the week, gave him a routine to follow so that he’d be less likely to drift from his work. It had had mixed results, so far, but it was better than nothing.

Usually there were two or three entries per week, but now it was completely filled with tasks for Wash to get done over the next _few_ weeks, things like reading books; creating fact lists; actually writing his essays; and so on. The final stretch was approaching, and whilst many of these essays weren’t due for another week or more, Wash found himself determined to get them done sooner. His record this year hadn’t been brilliant, after all. Not that he’d turned things in late, but he had turned things in the night before and after rushing them in a matter of hours. He knew there were marks that could have been boosted by at least half a grade bracket if he’d actually made time to do them.

The pressure was building, slowly but surely.

So every blank space in that schedule was filled, slowly but surely.

“So if I finish my Cold War Politics essay by… the end of tomorrow? Then I have time to get all my notes together on my Shaping of Britain case study so I can start it by Friday,” Wash said, gesturing at the relevant parts of his schedule with the mouse pointer. Maine nodded along without looking, their attention instead on Wash himself as he let out a big yawn and rubbed his eyes, “Then if I can finish that by Monday at the latest, I can−” Another yawn, “−get onto the… the…”

He squinted, leaning a little closer to the screen.

“Oh, right, my final Constructing History essay. Yeah.”

Maine frowned a little, tapping him on the shoulder so that they could sign. With a questioning expression they pointed at Wash, then with one hand laid flat facing up they rested the side of their other hand against it and then raised it in a small arc towards their chest.

Wash frowned in turn, but then shook his head and waved a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just, y’know, a little tired,” He said, shrugging, “I just stayed up late last night because I was on a roll, I’m fine.”

Maine raised a brow. Wash mimicked the look.

“I mean it, Isaac, I’m fine. Okay? I really need to get this schedule done, and I need your help so…” He shrugged a little, tugging at his lip with his teeth and looking at Maine, “I’m fine. I swear.”

With a huff, Maine gave in; they ruffled Wash’s hair, making him laugh, and with a shake of their head gestured back to the screen. Wash nodded, elbowing them as half-hearted retaliation and then focusing back on the schedule on the screen.

 “After that it’s my Study Skills portfolio. So when that’s done it’s just−” Wash yawned again, shaking his head and forcing himself to ignore Maine’s concerned look, “−revising for my exam. As long as I get that started about a week before the actual exam I’ll be set.”

He gave Maine a big smile, hoping that it didn’t look as fake as it felt, and nudged them in the side.

“See, I’m fine. I have everything under control.”

Maine still didn’t look convinced, and didn’t seem any more convinced by the end of their meeting. They spent most of the rest of the time just talking, practicing Wash’s signs−he was more fluent now than ever−as they chatted about the upcoming end of term. Wash felt the fear in his chest go with every word, trying to push through it in the hopes that talking would help quell it, but finding he hadn’t even got the guts to bring up his worries in the first place. He felt _silly_.

He left the meeting feeling worse than when he came; even Maine’s goodbye hug hadn’t put a dent in the ever growing feeling of tension. By the time he got back to his room he felt like he was going to be sick, and he all but collapsed against his door as he struggled to get air. When he checked his phone to see what time it was, the missed calls has gone up to thirteen and the messages were in the twenties.

He turned off his phone.

He didn’t have everything under control, not at all.

It took effort to pull himself up from the door. His stomach was rumbling, stirring uneasily with hunger, but he walked straight past the kitchen unit and towards his bed. Kicking his shoes and jeans off carelessly he sat down on the edge of the mattress, opening his laptop; logging back in; and pulling up his essay.

The word count in the bottom corner felt like it was taunting him.

“I can do this. I can do this. I just need to get to about one thousand five hundred words by the end of the day, then I can sleep and do the last quarter and proof read tomorrow. Yeah. Yeah,” He took a deep breath, ignoring how it much effort it was to do so, “I can do this.”

He hauled his books onto the bed; rubbed his eyes; took a deep breath; and started to type.

For a while it felt easy; his fingers danced across the keys with ease and fluidity, working uninterrupted apart from the routine switching to his fact list. Everything else in his surroundings dulled, his focus entirely on the laptop and on the reassuring clicking of the keys beneath his fingers. He had all the information he needed, much of it written out ready to be copy and pasted with complete references attached. Before he knew it he’d reached the end of two of his points and about half of his word total goal for the day.

But then he read through it.

He bit hard on his chew as he found himself deleting chunk after chunk; rewording sentences only to have to rework everything surrounding them; questioning his phrasing until his head was spinning− until, finally, he just deleted the past two hours’ worth of work and started to rock back and forth.

The room felt loud and quiet at the same time, the silence ringing in his ears as his head spun and his mind raced through every possible way to call himself a failure that it could come up with. He was supposed to be able to do this. He was one of the best essay writers in his class back in college, that was what his teachers said−what his teachers didn’t let him forget−he was supposed to be _good_ at this! He was− He was supposed− He−

His stomach twisted and rumbled, a brief distraction that drew him from his panic. With a quiet groan he glanced at his laptop’s clock. Ten to six. When had he last eaten? He couldn’t remember. He head was _spinning_. He should eat. He knew he should eat.

But he was still only on two hundred words.

“I just need to get to five hundred, then I’ll eat,” He told himself, ignoring that the hunger was painful now that it had come back to the forefront of his mind. He could wait. It wouldn’t take that long, but if he stopped now to get food then he’d struggle to start again. He could wait. He _had_ to wait.

When he hit five hundred, it was quarter past eight and he was finally on a roll.

“I’ll just… finish this point. Then I’ll eat,” He muttered to himself, ignoring the fact that he was becoming dizzy and that his stomach was hurting. He began to work on auto-pilot, fingers skipping over the keys in a mindless haze as he worked his way through the next two hundred plus words.

By the time he was done, it was past nine o’clock.

Wash frowned a little at the time, “Fuck… When did it…? If I cook now it’s not going to be done until nearly ten… I’ll… have to microwave one of the ready meals, I guess…”

He sighed. His muscles protested as he got up and headed to the kitchen, pulling a microwave meal out of the fridge and preparing it. He shoved it into the oven and turned the microwave setting on, setting the timer and all but collapsing back onto the floor of the kitchen. The timer was half way done by the time he dragged himself back up to his feet, giving him just long enough to go to the bathroom and to change into some clean PJs before the beeping filled the room and made him jump.

He settled down on his bed with a tray and began to eat as he checked over his essay so far, correcting odd mistakes between mouthfuls of noodles. By the time he was done eating his word count had gone up a little; he was finally a little over half way to his goal for the day again.

But he only had a couple more hours to work, and so he forced himself to focus.

Barely aware of what he was doing he spent the next few hours working almost non-stop, but at the same time he found himself beginning to grow more anxious, glancing at the clock more often. With every glance and every minute that went by he tensed and his mind began racing again.

He should have done more words in those few minutes than he did, or− or− He should have finished this point by now, no, he− He should have been _done_ by now! He’d wasted _so much time_. Nevermind that he’d been working non-stop all day, nevermind that he didn’t have to turn this in until next week. He’d wasted time, he’d erased so much earlier, he− he−

He hit his goal of one thousand five hundred words at one in the morning, with his head aching; his stomach twisting; and his chest tight.

It took effort to close his laptop and place it, along with his tray, on the floor beside his bed. It took just as much effort to reach for his phone, his heart racing and his hands shaking as he turned it on. He turned on sound as he went to set his alarm, and was jolted by every noise and every vibration that came in the bombardment of messages that it began to pick up after a few moments.

_[13 Missed Calls – Tucker, Caboose]_

_[57 New Messages – Caboose, Tucker]_

_[5 Voicemails – Tucker]_

He swallowed hard, nausea rising in the pit of his stomach. His thumb hovered over the messages, just barely above the screen, all he had to do was apply a little pressure and−

He set his alarm and closed his phone, turning off the light and forcing himself to at least try and sleep.

* * *

When he arrived at his lecture the next morning, Wash was running on less than three hours’ sleep and barely staying awake. A large coffee from the campus coffee shop was all that was between him and falling asleep right there in that lecture, and it had quickly become clear that taking notes was out of the question. His eyes kept becoming unfocused, the words on the PowerPoint slides all but incomprehensible amongst the blur of sleep. Processing audio input was also, apparently, out of the question; by the time he’d understood something the lecturer had said, she’d moved onto something completely different.

So no, no notes today.

He grabbed another coffee on his way back to his room, more grateful than ever that Connie’s shift aligned with his lecture. Having awoken non-verbal, being able to sign his order was a _blessing_ −even if it did mean he had to pull a convincing smile so that she wouldn’t report back to Carolina, who would in turn report back to Maine.

He was fine, of course. He just knew other people would think differently.

By the time he opened his laptop again he was feeling a little more awake, able to read his screen without much issue and finding himself able to focus again. He just had to make sure that he wasn’t going to get distracted, because then he knew he could finish the last five hundred before two. So, double checking that he’d turned off his phone again and closing anything on his computer that wasn’t relevant, he buried himself back in his work.

Everything became a bit of a blur. Actions smeared into one another. The word count jumped around suddenly as he zoned in and out. Time felt faster and slower at the same time. A metallic taste stung his tongue when he bit his cheek without thinking. His nerves buzzed with the energy the coffee had given him, but this buzz dulled over time, becoming a faint throbbing in his head. Every tap of the keys was too loud, or too quiet, and sometimes he could barely feel his fingers striking them.

And then there was the buzzing. The buzzing that sounded like his phone, but that he knew couldn’t be. The buzzing that kept making him look up, breaking his concentration. It was like every time that he thought he’d focused, another buzz would rattle him. He could feel his muscles tensing; his hands flexing into fists between words; his patience wearing thin. If he heard it one more time he− he−

He buried his face in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index fingers and taking a deep breath. Lights danced behind his eyes as his fingers pressed into them. He knew it wasn’t buzzing. He _knew_ it wasn’t. He needed to calm down, to _focus_ ; he needed to stay on schedule.

So he forced himself to. He blocked out everything surrounding him. He ignored the hunger that crept in as lunch time came and passed. He ignored the way his head hurt. He ignored the anxiety bubbling in his chest. He ignored the time. He ignored _everything_ , determined to just stay _focused_ and _work_ and−

−that _fucking buzzing_ again.

“SHUT _UP!_ ”

He moved without thinking.

A resounding crack tore through the silence of the room.

Breathing heavily he came to his senses, eyes immediately falling on the phone that now lay on the floor a few feet from his bed. His eyes widened, flicking to his hand and back again, and with a sharp curse he scrambled onto the floor. Grabbing the phone he turned it over, cursing again and feeling himself start to panic when he saw the giant crack going up the screen. Frantically he pressed the power button, getting to his feet and starting to pace as he waited for it to come back alive and−

“Oh thank god.”

The screen lit up, flashing the brand across the screen and loading with no issue. Testing the screen for a few seconds he found it was still working, despite the damage, and allowed himself a moment of relief. Only a moment, however, as it was only seconds later that the buzzing began as the totals updated.

_[13 Missed Calls – Tucker, Caboose]_

_[68 New Messages – Caboose, Tucker]_

_[9 Voicemails – Tucker]_

His fists clenched; his teeth gritted; the phone went sailing−luckily into the soft surface of his mattress this time. He cursed and cursed, his nails digging hard into his palms as he began to pace back and forth and around and around and−

Why did they keep trying?! He was trying to stay focused! He− He _needed_ this he needed to be _alone_! It didn’t matter that he missed them with every fibre of his being it didn’t _matter_ that he hated being so alone and that− that he just wanted them _here_ it− It didn’t matter! He had to _work_ he had to _work_ he couldn’t get distracted he couldn’t− he couldn’t _fail_ , he couldn’t! Not _again_ he couldn’t fail _again_ he− He had to _focus_ he− he−!

Salt stung his eyes and he choked on a sob. He covered his face with his hands, his breathing becoming frantic and sharp and his head spinning as everything became fuzzy and unreal. No, no he couldn’t do this! He− He couldn’t break down now, he couldn’t meltdown he _couldn’t_ he had to _work_ he− he didn’t have _time_ for this he− he− he had to−

A frustrated scream ripped its way up his throat, and his fist hit the wall before he was even aware he was moving.

Pain radiated up his arm, and the sobs that tore up his throat grew stronger, grew louder. He collapsed to the floor, his knees buckling under him as his body gave in to the meltdown and he lost all control of his muscles. Hard, uneven breaths made his shoulders heave and his stomach unsettle; the tears running down his face crept into his mouth and the salty taste made him retch and− and−

Oh god.

Forcing himself to move he leant back against his bed, his head falling back against the mattress and his knees curled up to his chest. He grasped at the floor desperately, anything to keep his hands occupied, but he couldn’t do more than give himself a soft surface to stop the damage as he began to knock his head back against his bed over and _over_ and _over_ and− and−

He whimpered. He− he was supposed to be _working_ he couldn’t− he had to− he− oh _god_ , why was he like this why was he so _weak_ why was he such a _failure_ why− why was−?

He was meant to be good at this.

He was meant to be a good student.

Things were meant to be _different_ this time.

But he guessed some things just never changed.

The thought reignited something, and he felt his fists clench against the ground before beginning to slam against it over and over and _over_ and− he _knew_ that it was bad, he knew that his knuckles would bruise but he also knew that he couldn’t _stop it_ , that it _grounded him_. The pain gave him a _focus_ , it− it− it _helped_ , it hurt but god it _helped_.

Streams of tears fell, never-ending; they stung his eyes, made his cheeks cold, left a bad taste in his mouth. Sobs bubbled up between his lips. He was a blubbering _mess_ , banging his head against his mattress and slamming his hands into the hard floor and _crying_.

Breathing was a chore, and so he was light-headed. Thinking became harder, his thoughts were muddled and endless and he couldn’t separate the logical thoughts from the panic. The panic that he was a _failure_ that he shouldn’t even _be here_ , at university, with his friends, with− with his partners or− or anything! That− that he didn’t _deserve_ this that he hadn’t worked _hard enough_ that he had to do _more_ he had to do _more_ and− and−

He heard his phone start to buzz, and he broke into a new round of sobs.

Please, _stop_ − just− just _stop_ why wouldn’t they _stop_ why did they keep− keep _trying_? Why did they _care_? They’d be better off _without_ him they− they were together _first_ they− they−

The sound of his own sobs rattled him, every pitiful sound sending jolts of pain through his nerves and making his head _ache_. He was shaking, no− _shuddering_ , with every single breath; he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t hold himself still. The more he _tried_ , the _worse_ the quaking got. Everything was too much. Everything was just− just− _too much_! He just wanted the input to stop! For everything to _go away_! He− He−

He buried his face in his hands, curling into a ball and rocking back and forth.

Why wouldn’t it all just _stop_?

He just wanted it to _stop_.

By the time the meltdown began to fade, it was dark out.

Wash found that the room spun as he stood up, and he stumbled back onto the bed more than once before finally steadying himself. He was just coherent enough to remember to clear his bed, but grabbing a snack and a drink from the kitchen was a push he barely made. He just needed to take some ibuprofen, that’s all. He just needed to let his head settle. That was all. Then he’d get back to work.

He fell asleep atop the covers with his light still on.

* * *

Caboose hummed to himself, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger. He spun slightly from side to side, enjoying the way the short dress he was wearing felt as it floated around his upper legs. With a slight frown, however, he dug a hand into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his phone.

17:58. Wash’s lecture should be done in two minutes time.

Loading up a game to waste the last couple of minutes, Caboose continued to hum to himself. He’d been waiting around for the past ten minutes or so, he thinks; he’d come straight from his meeting with his study support worker, even going so far as to cut the meeting off a little early so that he was _sure_ he’d get here on time. If Wash wasn’t going to answer his phone, then Caboose would just have to be more direct.

Voices filled the area as the doors swung open, students filing out of the lecture hall. Caboose locked his phone and stood up straight, peering over the groups of people; he didn’t want to risk letting Wash slip past him, not at all. He had a job to do, and that job was to find David Washington and, in Tucker’s words, ‘asking him what the fuck was going on’.

But as the students slowly moved away; as the stragglers left the room one by one; as the area became quiet again… there was no sign of Wash.

Caboose frowned, jutting out his bottom lip. Huh. That did not make sense. Wash was meant to be here, and Wash never _ever_ missed lectures. He must still be in the hall, right?

Except no, he _wasn’t_ ; a brief glance inside was enough to tell Caboose that Wash wasn’t in there. He even went as far as to ask the lecturer, a very friendly man called Professor Flowers who told him that no, Wash hadn’t come to lecture today. And it was at that point that Caboose found himself very, _very_ worried.

He barely gave Tucker time to answer the phone before speaking, “Tucker Tucker Tucker! He was not here! He did not come out of the hall and− and I looked inside and he was not there and his lecturer said−”

“ _Whoa, whoa, slow down, buddy! Take a deep breath, and repeat all that but slower, okay?_ ” Tucker said, and Caboose took a breath.

“Right yes, um− I have been at Wash’s lecture place and he isn’t here! He was not in the room and mister Flowers said that he hadn’t come to lecture, Tucker! He does not miss lectures!” He said, still speaking a little too fast but not so much that Tucker couldn’t understand.

“ _What? Okay, that’s−Junior, sit still!−worrying. You sure you didn’t just miss him buddy?_ ”

Caboose pouted, “I said that the lecturer had not seen him either _Tucker_!”

“ _Right, shit, sorry. Junior’s distracting me. Um, shit. Where are you now? Heading back to your room?_ ”

“Yes,” Caboose said with a nod, elbowing the front door of his building open as he did so. He waved a little at a couple of the people in the hallway before running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, “I am almost there.”

“ _Okay, right. Well, we’re gonna have to do something about this. We can’t just keep calling him and texting him and hoping that he’ll finally respond anymore, it’s clearly not fucking working. And this is becoming like, actually fucking scary now− Junior, I said sit still! Hey, hey, you want your toy? Then sit still and eat your dinner._ ”

“Tucker you should let the Tiny Tucker have his toy,” Caboose fumbled with his student card, unlocking his door and ducking inside.

“ _Don’t you encourage him, Mikey,_ ” There was a pause filled with the sound of fumbling and babbling from Junior, before Tucker spoke again, “ _Okay, fuck, um… We have to go to him, like, we can’t leave this any longer. I’ll have to get Andersmith to come back, pay him extra to maybe stay the night if it comes down to it. Fuck._ ”

“Will that take a very long time?” Caboose asked, tossing his bag to the floor and flopping back on his bed.

“ _Well Andersmith lives a thirty minute walk away, and he’ll have to pack his overnight stuff, and then my drive is like an hour so… Fuck. What time is it?_ ”

Caboose checked his phone quickly, “Um, it is twenty five to nineteen.”

“ _Okay, okay. Fuck. I’ll probably be able to get there around ten? If everything goes to plan. So… It’s kinda a long time, sorry buddy._ ”

“That is okay. I just hope that David is okay, I am very worried,” Caboose said, swinging his legs and sighing. He looked up at his ceiling, pouting slightly, “I love you very much Tucker.”

Tucker sighed too, but Caboose could hear a smile in his voice, “ _I love you too, Caboose. I’ll be there asap._ ”

The wait was long and agonisingly slow. Caboose tried to keep his mind off what was going on by doing some of his engineering work, but he quickly realised he was reading the same sentences multiple times and not actually doing any work at all. That was okay, he was used to that, he was just not very used to the worry that was making his chest feel all funny and making him glance out of the window a lot. He could see Wash’s building from here−well, one wing of it−and he could not stop looking at it.

Slowly he saw it grow darker outside, time ticking by and the campus’ mid-evening quiet being replaced by the music from the student union and the people walking to it. Caboose checked the time every few minutes, frowning when ten o’clock came and Tucker hadn’t arrived yet. It wasn’t until half past that his phone lit up with Tucker’s caller ID.

“ _I’m outside, sorry, there was an accident so there was traffic._ ”

Caboose was outside in less than a minute, jumping down half of one flight of stairs and running down the others. He greeted Tucker with the biggest hug he could muster, burying his head against the top of the smaller student’s and squeezing tight.

Tucker didn’t protest in the slightest, hugging him back just as tightly, “Hey buddy, I got you.”

“I am very worried,” Caboose said, voice muffled in Tucker’s hair. Tucker sighed, squeezing him tighter and nodding.

“I know Mikey, me too. C’mon, let’s go check on our boyfriend,” He pulled away from the hug just enough to kiss Caboose’s cheek and take his hand, squeezing it. Caboose nodded, squeezing his hand in return.

Arriving at Wash’s building, however, they realised there were one or two flaws in their plan. Like the fact that the doors locked after 9pm, and they didn’t have the right card to enter. Or the fact that even if it had been unlocked, they’d have no way of getting up to Wash’s floor without his card, either.

“Shit, um… Caboose, try call Wash’s mobile again whilst I figure out how their intercom system works okay?” Tucker said, kissing Caboose’s cheek and then crouching to look at the box by the door. Caboose nodded, calling Wash but predictably getting no answer. Tucker did, however, figure out how to dial Wash’s room’s phone using the callbox.

But again, he got no answer.

“This is not working.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Tucker sighed, standing up straight and taking a deep breath. He was trying his best not to be obviously worried, so that Caboose wouldn’t be affected by Tucker’s worry as well as his own, but it was getting hard. Wash had never done anything like this before. Wash was the kind of guy who texted back immediately, the kind of guy who if he missed your call it was probably just because he was in the bathroom or asleep and he’d call you back as soon as he was able. Close to a hundred texts and over twenty calls with no response was _terrifying_.

“What do we do now Tucker?” Caboose asked. Tucker could see the slight flaps of his hands where he held them at hip level, and the distress on his face.

Tucker sighed again, “I don’t know, buddy. We can’t get in without someone on the same floor letting us in, so−”

Caboose’s face lit up, “Oh! Oh! Tucker! Tucker! Virginia! She is up there!”

“Virginia…? Oh, fuck! She is! Um, fuck, do you know her room number? She’s like two down from Wash right?” When Caboose nodded, Tucker took a breath, “Okay I’ll call her on the call box. Um…”

He typed in the code that he’d used for Wash’s room, but substituting the appropriate numbers. This time it connected, signifying someone had picked up, but all he heard were a few beeps. He looked at Caboose, confused, only for Caboose to gesture at his throat. He frowned, what did that mean? Oh, wait, she couldn’t speak!

“Um, Virginia right? Look I know this is weird and I… totally forgot you don’t talk verbally, sorry, but we kinda need to get in the building? Wash has been basically missing for the last three days, we’re getting… really worried. So, like, if you could maybe? Come down here and let us in?” He said, swallowing hard.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a sigh and another beep. Then the line disconnected.

Tucker looked up at Caboose again, but this time Caboose only shrugged.

Virginia appeared in the entrance way a few minutes later, yawning and clearly dressed in her pyjamas beneath her dressing gown. She blew a strand of hair from her face as she unlocked the door and let them in, beckoning them inside.

“Hey, thanks. Sorry, did we wake you up?” Tucker asked, an awkward smile on his face.

Virginia shrugged a little, touching her index fingers to her thumbs and splaying her other fingers, shaking them from side to side at chest level. When she only got looks of confusion she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She flicked one hand from the same index to thumb position into a position with her pinkie and ring finger down, her middle finger bent at a 45 degree angle and her index finger up and thumb touched to it, followed by a quick flick down from waist height of her hand with index and middle finger extended. Then she fisted one hand, her thumb slightly extended, at shoulder height and followed it by twisting her other hand up into that position and pushing both fists away from her at an angle.

They still looked on blankly, so with one more sigh she just made a ‘come here’ gesture and lead them towards the stairs. The two followed behind her as she unlocked the doors at the bottom of the stairs and then at the top, following her onto the hallway and down towards Wash’s room.

When they reached his door, they came to a stop.

“Thanks, Virginia,” Tucker said quietly, eyeing the door nervously. For a moment, before he’d spoken, he could have sworn he heard talking inside the room. Now it was silent, and he glanced at Virginia and then Caboose with a furrowed brow and worry in his eyes.

Virginia shook her head, poking Tucker’s shoulder and then pointing at her chest, followed by pushing two fists from facing her chest to face them. Tucker didn’t understand exactly what she meant, but he got the gist of it, and stepped back.

With a nod Virginia stepped up to the door, and proceeded to rap her knuckles against it in a rather precise sounding rhythm. There was a brief moment of silence, before a sigh could be heard from inside the room, followed by the sound of footsteps. Before long the door swung open to the sight of a very tired, very dishevelled looking David Washington.

“What is it Virgin−” His eyes fell on Tucker and Caboose and widened. Quickly he tried to shut the door, but Virginia jammed her foot in the gap to stop him. And then her whole body, “Virginia, come on!”

Virginia shook her head, rapidly signing at Washington in a flash of hand motions that blurred together and made no sense whatsoever to the sign language illiterate pair standing in the doorway with her. Whatever she said, however, made Wash back down, so they figured they should be grateful.

She sighed, stepping out; she held one hand up flat facing her, circling it with her other until the backs of her fingers touched the fronts of the other’s, and then pushed a ‘stop’ hand towards them. With that she walked back to her room, leaving the trio standing silently. _Awkwardly_ and silently.

After a long moment Wash sighed, waving the two of them inside and letting the door fall closed behind them. It was almost pitch black before he turned the lights on, and when he did Caboose and Tucker were greeted by the sight of the room in a messier state than they’d ever seen Wash let his room get.

“I… Sorry. It’s…” Wash swallowed hard, scratching at his arms, “Yeah.”

“David… fuck, man,” Tucker said, turning to him with a worried frown. He caught the hand scratching his arm almost immediately, lacing their fingers together and giving it a squeeze, “Hey, you don’t need to apologise for a messy fucking room, dude.”

Wash only nodded a little, tugging at his lip with his teeth and squeezing Tucker’s hand in return. It felt good, the contact; the brush of a thumb against the back of his hand; the warmth. He felt tears welling in his eyes, and before he could even think about stopping himself he began to cry. Sobs began to shake him, his knees buckling.

Caboose caught him, pulling him tight to his chest and cradling him. Wash grasped at the material of his dress, whimpering pitifully into his chest and mumbling blubbered apologies. He felt Caboose’s arms wrap around him more tightly, hooking under his legs and scooping him up, carrying him across the room. He allowed it, too tired to protest even if he wanted to. Caboose’s arms were familiar, warm, _welcoming_.

Tucker sat down on the bed, shortly followed by Caboose who settled Wash on his lap. He buried his head against his datefriend’s shoulder, grasping tighter at his clothes. Caboose shared a look with Tucker, tears welling up in his own eyes, and Tucker sighed. He wiped Caboose’s eyes, kissing his forehead, and then gently coaxed Wash to look at them.

“Hey, c’mon,” He said, brushing some of the tears from Wash’s face, “Wash, speak to us. What’s wrong? What’s been going on?”

“I…” Wash sniffled, rubbing his eyes, “I’m− I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you I just… I needed to be alone, I needed to be without distraction. I’ve been working, well… t-trying to, at least. B-But I couldn’t focus and then− and then I barely slept and− and− I freaked out and broke my fucking phone screen and− and− I-I overslept and missed my lecture but I had to keep _working_ and−”

The more he spoke, the more choked up he got; by the time he finished he was sobbing again, burying his face into his hands and curling into a ball on Caboose’s lap. Caboose was quick to hold him close, stroking his hair and nuzzling the top of his head, looking at Tucker with worry.

“David… hey, hey, it’s okay, take deep breaths, come on,” Tucker said, stroking one of Wash’s arms, “David, why do you think you have to do this? What’s wrong? Your next essay isn’t due ‘til next week, right? We were gonna have a study session, help you get yourself sorted, remember?”

“I− Yes, but− but I−” More sobs shook him, and Caboose all but crushed him against his chest. When this made Wash start to relax, Tucker decided it was best to stop asking questions until he settled down. All he was doing was working him up more, the exact opposite of what he wanted to do.

So they sat there in silence for a while. Caboose held Wash tight and rocked them both back and forth, the combination of which slowly began to calm Wash down. Tucker felt a little helpless, only being able to hold Wash’s hand and kiss the bruised knuckles occasionally, but what mattered was the fact it was working. Wash was coming back to them, slowly but surely.

Eventually the tears stopped, and Wash looked up. He glanced between his datefriends for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded. After giving Caboose a tight squeeze he shuffled off of his lap, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Caboose was quick to wrap an arm around him and kiss the top of his head, whilst Tucker was quick to take both of his hands and give him a quick kiss on the lips. Wash leant into the contact, and let their foreheads rest together for a moment when they broke away.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can apologise with lots of kisses later, right now we just want to know what’s up,” Tucker said, squeezing his hands and sitting up. Wash nodded, taking another breath, “Why did you think you had to do this, David? I’ve never seen you get like this before.”

“It’s… it’s a bit of a long story,” Wash said, pulling his knees up to his chest. Caboose tucked him up to his side, and Wash nuzzled against him, “A long, stupid story.”

“Hey, dude, you heard me out about Junior. We can listen to your ‘long, stupid story’, easy. Especially if it lets us, y’know… Help you,” Tucker said, shuffling closer. Wash was the one to take his hand this time, taking a breath and leaning against Caboose, “Take it at your own pace dude.”

“Well…” Wash sighed, biting at his lip until Caboose poked his lip with one of his chews. Wash managed a chuckle, taking it, “You know that when I started university this year I was twenty already−I mean I’m twenty one now, but… anyway−and that I was doing the IB before I came? Rather than A-Levels?”

“Yeah, the course you so lovingly called ‘the worst decision of your life’,” Tucker said. Wash laughed dryly, biting his chew.

“Yeah, yeah, that I did. Um… The IB is a two year course, well, over here at least. So I should have been done before I turned twenty,” He said, biting a little harder on the chew. Caboose kissed the top of his head, and he relaxed a little more, “Thing is I… well, during my mock exams around Christmas time of my second year, I… broke down. And I don’t mean that I just had a one meltdown, done, back on track. I mean I… completely broke down from the sheer levels of _stress_ and−”

He took a moment to compose himself, Caboose once again kissing his head and Tucker giving a reassuring smile.

“My teachers had so many high expectations of me, that, I… Well, long story short I− I had to drop out, temporarily. I took the rest of the year off, and returned the start of the school year that I’d turn nineteen. My second attempt didn’t go so badly but… well, those pressures didn’t just… disappear. I pushed through the course but only barely. I didn’t get the results I was expected to get. I was− I was meant to go to a big university, one of the top ten, but−ha, fuck,” Wash let out another dry laugh, shaking his head, “My results weren’t anywhere near good enough for that.”

“You were not supposed to come here?” Caboose asked, tilting his head. Wash sighed, shaking his and looking up at Caboose.

“No, not originally. I was lucky enough to get a place here via clearing. I mean, I don’t regret that part, I am so, so glad I came here. I’ve met you guys I’ve met… So many wonderful friends but… At the time, it was… crushing, I guess.”

Caboose nodded with understanding, kissing Wash quickly. He leant into the kiss, not wanting to break away and only doing so when he had to breathe. Caboose’s cheeks were a little flushed when he looked, coaxing a genuine smile out of him.

“So the pressures are ingrained now, huh?” Tucker said, drawing their attention back to him.

Wash shrugged a little, “I… I suppose so, yeah. I just… I’ve not been doing great, this year. I keep turning in things that− that I _know_ I could have done better, if I’d just… worked on them. But I never do! I just… leave it to the last second every _fucking_ time. It’s… frustrating.”

“Hey, dude, you haven’t turned in a single piece of work below a 2:1 this year! And you’ve turned everything in on time!” Tucker said, “You’re doing great, dude! Who _cares_ if you’re turning things in the day before, you’re still turning them in! And, well, okay it’s not that simple I know, I can’t say shit I haven’t exactly been the pinnacle of dealing with my own issues but… David, I swear, you’re doing _great_.”

“I… thank you,” Wash said, “I’m sorry that I worried you both I… haven’t been in a good place, I suppose. But… I made bad choices.”

Tucked chuckled, “Hey, you’re talking to the guy who decided it was a good idea to wait to bring up a literal toddler.”

“And also to people who love you very very much,” Caboose added, with a nod for emphasis. Wash’s cheeks flushed, and his face split with a smile, “That is us. We are the people who love you very much.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” Wash said, his smile growing as he pulled Caboose down into another kiss. Caboose held him close again, lacing his hand into Wash’s hair and stroking his back with the other. Wash let himself relax into the careful embrace, having missed this contact much too much for having been gone only three days. Once again he only pulled back when he needed air, resting his forehead against Caboose’s, “I love you too, Mikey.”

“Hey, what about me huh?” Tucker said, teasing tone in his voice. Wash turned to him, seeing him with a brow raised and a hand on his hip, “Love me too?”

“Oh− Shut up, Lavernius,” Wash said, capturing any retort Tucker had inside a kiss. Tucker wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him with a little more energy, and Wash ate it up. He missed this. He missed _them_. God, he hated being alone, “I love you too, Lavernius.”

Tucker grinned, going to speak again when Wash’s stomach decided it had something more important to say.

Wash felt the eyes on him immediately, and chuckled awkwardly, “I uh… haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“Fucking hell, dude,” Tucker said, groaning as he got to his feet, “Okay, Caboose, tidy up some of his shit. Wash, sit down and just relax. Literally, do nothing. Wrap yourself in your blankets and just _sit_. I am going to cook something for you right now.”

“Tucker−”

Tucker folded his arms, “David Washington-Chae I swear to god, sit your ass on that bed and _relax_! I mean it, dude. Don’t fucking try me, mister.”

Wash held his hands up in defeat, shuffling to sit in the centre of the bed and then muffling a laugh as Caboose dumped his blanket over his head. He pulled it off his face and wrapped himself up in it, only for Caboose to rest one of his stuffed cats on his head right after. He gave him a look, but only got an innocent grin in response as he started to clean up.

He didn’t deserve these two.

“Also, on that note, we’re staying overnight and you’re not allowed to do any work until this weekend is over,” Tucker said, all without turning away from Wash’s counter sized fridge. Wash opened his mouth to protest but Tucker was quicker, “I mean it, dude. You have burned yourself out. Take this weekend off, and on Monday we’ll sit down and we will work on it, okay? I promise.”

“I… Fine,” Wash relented, sighing. The cat dropped off his head and into his lap, where he absent-mindedly pet it, “Just relaxing this weekend.”

Tucker knocked the fridge shut with his hip and grinned, “Exactly. Alright, you might have to tell me how to use your oven but… You’re getting food.”

“Just don’t set off the fire alarm and make everyone on the floor hate me the way we all hate the guy three doors down.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tucker replied with a wink.

Wash shook his head, wrapping himself tighter in his blanket and holding the stuffed cat close to his chest. Caboose joined him not long after, sitting behind him and pulling him into his lap, and into a wonderful pressure filled hug. And, whilst there was a headache building and he still felt terrible, he felt himself begin to truly relax.

He didn’t deserve them, but he was going to treasure every moment he had with them until they realised that.


	9. Unification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the early hours on Campus, a few realisations really start to hit home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I wanted to, but I plan on trying to get chapters out a bit more often after this! But here we are, at the final chapter of the first year!

May, the choke point of the academic year. A time when students would talk about how it seemed like lecturers purposefully conspired with each other to make sure that deadlines fell within days of each other. For some it meant scrambling to finish work on time, spending hours in the library at a time; for others, it meant pretending that the deadlines weren’t just around the corner and spending hours at night partying in the student union; for others, it fell somewhere in between. But, no matter what, it was far from unusual to find students awake during the early hours.

Though for some, the pressure of assignments was only one part of a much bigger picture.

“Your name is Locus Quon.”

Short, sharp, shaky breaths filled the room. Two large hands were held tight by two smaller hands, clasped between them in a strong, grounding grip. But still the breaths were rough, and their shoulders shook. There were no tears, not this time, but there were dry, rattling sobs amongst their breathing.

“Your name is Locus Quon and you’re _safe_. Can you repeat that, Lo?”

They swallowed hard, their voice quaking, “M-My name… Is Locus Quon. And I’m… safe.”

“That’s right. Your name is Locus Quon, I’m Felix Quon, you’re my husband, and you’re _safe_. How about that?” He gave their hands a reassuring squeeze when they began to shake again, “Lo?”

“My name… is Locus Quon,” Locus said, their voice steadier now, “You’re Felix Quon, you’re my husband. I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Felix smiled softly, a softer smile than he ever wore around anyone else, and kissed Locus’ hands. One of them was pulled from his grasp, cupping his cheek, and he leant into the touch. Locus scanned his face, their thumb brushing over his cheekbone; his lips; his jaw.

“Hey big guy. Any better?” He asked after a moment of silence, pulling himself up from where he was knelt in front of Locus. He kissed their forehead, sat on the edge of the bed next to them, made sure their sides were pressed together.

Locus shrugged slightly, but also nodded. Felix rested a hand on theirs.

“Haven’t had a terror that bad in a while, huh? Wanna talk about it?” Locus shook their head, “Okay. Anything else I can do? Or do you just want to get back to sleep?”

“Not sleep,” They said, shaking their head a second time, “I don’t… I feel uneasy. It’s− _illogical_ , I know. But…”

Felix saw their eyes fall on the window; the door; the hatch in the ceiling that led to the house’s attic; and then to the floor. Squeezing their hand, he sighed.

“I know big guy, I know. Where you wanna go? Downstairs? For a walk?” His thumb stroked reassuring circles on the back of their hand, and there was no urgency to his words, no pushing. So Locus didn’t feel pressure to answer quickly, and took a moment to think.

“…No. I think…” They paused again, brow furrowing. Not anywhere at home, they didn’t feel secure here, not right now. Walking left room for thinking, for remembering. Not distraction. And they needed distraction, “Campus. I think I want to go to campus.”

“Huh,” Felix’s head tilted slightly, followed by a shrug, “Well, can’t say that was what I expected but… we can do that. We can definitely do that. Are you okay if I get up to get you some clothes, Lo?”

Locus nodded, but kept their gaze on their partner as he moved around the room. Not letting him out of their sight, just in case. Just in case of what, they didn’t quite know; just in case of _anything_ , they supposed. They were conscious of the entrances and exits; conscious of the items in the room that could potentially be used as a weapon, if needs be; conscious of every sound from the occasional passing car to Felix moving things in the wardrobe. Anything that could be important if− well, they didn’t know. If _something_. That’s all they could think about. Whatever that _something_ could be.

Felix appeared in front of them, blocking their field of view and dropping something on the bed beside them.

“Alright big guy, arms up.”

Locus did as instructed, raising their arms above their head. Cold fingers brushed against the skin of their stomach, deftly catching the hem of their shirt and easing it up over their head. They let their body be loose and pliable, following Felix’s lead as he helped his partner pull on a comfortable shirt. Locus took over again when it came to everything below the waist, letting Felix drag on some clothes of his own and hunt down his keys.

He was digging through his bag for his student card when Locus’ arms encircled his waist, pressing his back to their chest and sharing a feeling of pleasant warmth. A smile danced across his face and he let his head fall back, standing on his tip toes to nudge his nose against their jaw.

“Anything else we need?”

Locus kissed his chin, “My card. My notes.”

“On it. Meet me by the door?”

Locus nodded, letting Felix go−more than a little reluctantly−and stepping back. Felix turned to press a quick kiss to their lips before turning to go and find Locus’ school bag. Locus watched, hesitated in heading to the front door.

“Felix?”

He paused, turned to look at them, “Yeah Lo?”

“…Thank you.”

Felix smiled, a fond smile reserved for them, and shook his head, “Don’t sweat it, big guy. Partners, remember? Go on, meet you by the door.”

He blew a kiss and then went back to what he was doing, and whilst Locus didn’t feel like they’d said _enough_ , they went downstairs and to the front door anyway. It would come to them.

When Felix returned, bag thrown over his shoulder and keys in hand, they walked out into the muggy night together. Everything seemed− _big_ , open, insecure. So many directions that someone could come from, so many variables. For the moments between Felix turning to lock the door and taking Locus’ hand, they struggled to suppress the feelings of growing panic. But Felix’s touch was grounding. When he laced their fingers together and gave their hand a light squeeze, Locus found themself able to block out their surroundings and just focus on him.

For the next few minutes the only sounds were the soft thuds of their footsteps; the creaking of the metal gate onto campus; the crunch of the loose pebbled path under their feet as they walked across campus. Few lights were on at this time of night, the buildings all barren and dark, and the twisting paths only lit up by occasional lamps. It was calming, in a sense, walking through the dark with only the other at their side and the dull thrum of the student union bar in the distance.

A sharp beep. Locus pressed their card to the scanner and opened the door, letting Felix in ahead of them. The cool air inside the building was a welcome relief from the muggy mid-spring atmosphere. Felix let Locus guide them through the building, into one of the computer suites, and over to a very specific work station.

Pulling over a chair Felix sat down and sat back, watching Locus unpack their notes and log into the system. He smiled as he did; Locus was in their element. Already he could see that they were much more relaxed than they had been only minutes before, settling into the familiar environment in mere moments. Sure there was still tension in their shoulders, and their eyes still flicked around the room occasionally, but it was something.

When Locus finally loaded up their file, Felix shuffled his chair closer, “Whatcha working on, Lo?”

Resting his chin on their shoulder they looked at the screen, watching Locus set up whatever animation related program they were working with tonight. Felix had never really kept up with the terminology that Locus used when talking about their degree, finding that it just didn’t stick with him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t listen. It just meant he asked the same question a lot, which Locus didn’t seem bothered by.

“My rigging assessment,” Locus said, without looking away from the screen, “It’s my last assessment this year.”

“Uh-huh,” He pressed a kiss to the shell of their ear, dropped his head so he was barely peering over their shoulder and his lips would tickle their shoulder through their shirt, “Wanna talk me through what you’re doing?”

Locus tapped against the desk a few times, “Only if− It might be rather… boring.”

“Nah,” Felix said, kissing their shoulder, “Go on, hit me with your best animation mumbo-jumbo.”

There was a pause, but then− “Well…”

Felix leant his head against Locus’, watching as they moved things about on the screen and listening as they talked through processes that he had no understanding of, and didn’t really _desire_ to have an understanding of. He simply wanted to listen to Locus, so he did. He nodded along, listened intently to the way they described what they were doing. Smiled at the expression on their face; the way they were enthralled by their work and their explanation, the words flowing almost effortlessly in a way they rarely did for Locus in normal conversation. This was the sort of coherence reserved for things Locus knew inside out or cared about deeply, more deeply than anything else. Words came with ease, minimal stumbles, and the talking both seemed to relax them and let them work more efficiently.

Time seemed to fly by. Within what felt like barely fifteen minutes the night sky outside began to morph into a soft, orange early morning sunrise, signalling it must have been at least an hour or more. Locus had made great progress−well, at least as far as Felix could understand−and they were definitely much more relaxed than they had been when they arrived. They had been talking the entire time, walking through every step of their work as they completed it. Felix had closed his eyes at some point, listening intently as ever but failing to keep himself quite as awake as he’d like.

That is, until there was a moment’s silence, followed by: “…Felix?”

“Mm, yeah?” He opened his eyes half way, glanced at the screen where Locus’ work currently lay untouched, “What’s up Lo?”

“You know that I’m grateful for how much you do for me, right?”

“I− Yeah,” Felix said, swallowing. He kissed Locus’ cheek, sat back in his chair, settled his eyes on them and yet also looking past them, “Course I do.”

“I’m being serious, Felix,” They saved their work, a little action that somehow made Felix chuckle, and turned their chair to face him. A large hand cupped his face, their thumb brushing over his jaw, and he leaned into the touch even as he avoided their face, “I need you to know that. I need− need you to _understand_. Things like this… Like helping me get dressed… or just being here, all the time− I can’t put it into words. You do so much for me, Felix. And I cannot thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Felix said, looking everywhere but Locus. When a finger brushed against the side of his face, scooped up a thick strand of hair and began to curl it around their finger, he sighed and managed a smile, “Seriously.”

“Yes, I do. Precisely because you think I don’t.”

He had no dismissive comment for that. No retort to make. Leaning into the comforting touch of their hand and focusing on the soft tugs on his scalp that their twirling of his curl gave, he sighed.

“Alright smartass, go ahead. Say your piece,” He said, a soft smile on his face and more fondness in his tone than attitude. Locus shook their head a little, and Felix caught a flash of a smile, “Hey, c’mon, we don’t have all day. Like, the sun is _literally_ rising on a new day. Right now. This moment.”

Well, maybe he had one or two joking retorts in him.

Another smile flashed across their face, “I need to thank you, Felix, because you do things like− like _this_. You− You remind me of who I am. You come back to campus with me, just because I asked. You listen as I talk at you about something you have no personal interest in. And that doesn’t even scratch the surface. Without you− I would never have come to be this comfortable as me. I hope you know that.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. Most of the time,” Felix said with a quiet chuckle, sighing softly. He cupped his hand over Locus’ where it rested against their face, still twirling a strand of hair between their fingers, and stroked the back of it with his thumb, “You know what I mean, right?”

Soft lips pressing to his was his only answer. With a content noise he leant into the contact, cupping the back of Locus’ head and kissing back. When they pulled away they let their foreheads rest together, Locus’ fingers lacing into Felix’s hair.

“Mm, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You’re my partner, Felix. I wouldn’t have− I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I hope that I’ve been able to do for you even a _fraction_ of what you’ve done for me,” Locus said.

Felix rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t you worry, you’ve done fucking plenty, Lo. Partners, like you said.”

And Locus smiled, giving a nod, “Partners.”

“So, you wanna stay and work on your rigging thing or…?” Felix said, gesturing vaguely at the screen, “It is about− _five_ in the morning. I’m down with staying if you want to, it _is_ the weekend. We got nowhere to be.”

“I’m… very close to finishing, I think. It would be wise to take advantage of the work streak,” Locus said, smoothing out one the waves in Felix’s hair between their fingers, “Once I’m done with this then, well… I’m done.”

“Oh yeah?” Felix grinned, sat up straighter, “Would you look at that, huh? You made it, big guy. Final assessment of your first year of university!”

“ _Our_ first year of university,” Locus said, an amused smile on their face as they turned back to their work, “You made it too, Felix.”

“Huh, guess I did,” Locus was forced to slump as Felix’s draped himself over their shoulders, nuzzling against the side of their neck. His next words were muffled, “We made it, Lo. How about that?”

Locus smiled, letting their head drop against his.

“How about that.”

* * *

Dull whirring filled the silence, the fan across the room cycling back and forth, disturbing the still air of the room. Morning light broke through the gap in the curtains that Wash was sure he’d told someone to fix last night, but that had apparently gone unattended. It was a little jarring, really, after hours of lying awake in total darkness. Not to mention a stark reminder that he’d not slept at all.

Sighing he sat up, careful not to jostle his sleeping partners. He rested his arms atop his knees, and his chin atop them, and took a moment to just listen. Listen to the sound of the fan; to the sound of birds outside; the sound of soft breathing and obnoxious snoring behind him. After the sheets rustled and there was a dull thump, he turned around. Immediately, he was greeted by the sight of Tucker now sprawled out over the space he had freed, mouth agape. The source of the snoring.

He chuckled, shaking his head. Reaching back he brushed one of Tucker’s dreads from his face, letting his fingers linger on his cheek−until Tucker made a face, and Wash realised he had the “coldest hands [Tucker] had ever felt” and so quickly pulled away. His face settled again, and he mumbled something in his sleep−between his obnoxious snores. Wash couldn’t make it out, didn’t really try, but it was sort of cute and it made him smile nonetheless.

His attention turned to Caboose next, laying half on his side all but hugging one of the pillows, with one leg dangling over the edge of the bed. His hair, loose from his usual braid or ponytail, was everywhere−in his face, splayed across the pillow. Barely a sound came from him, his breathing soft and even, a stark contrast to Tucker laying merely a foot away. Wash’s smile grew a little, another chuckle escaping him only to be interrupted by a yawn.

Besides the obvious issues with space, Wash had found that sleeping with his two datefriends beside him was more comfortable and felt more right than he had honestly ever expected. It had−in general−done wonders for his ability to get a full night’s sleep; nine times out of ten, when they stayed over, he would get at least five hours and that was more than he could boast any other night of the week. Their presences were grounding, almost; they provided pressure, warmth, reassurance−in a way. And, especially over these past few weeks, that had been pivotal in keeping him going. Without them…

Well, let’s just say he was questioning why he ever thought isolating himself had been a good idea.

But now it was May, and the end of the university year was finally approaching. His final paper had been turned in at eleven the previous night, alongside both Caboose and Tucker’s final works, after a particularly fruitful group writing session. All that was left on his assessment schedule now was his _Turning Points_ exam, coming up in a week’s time. After that, the year was over.

…Huh.

The year was over.

Brushing a hand through his hair he furrowed his brow a little, wondering why the realisation hadn’t hit him sooner. The year was almost over−a week, just a _week_ , was all that stood between him and finishing his first year of university. Something that, mere weeks ago, had seemed like a distant dream. Untouchable, just another potential failure in his ever stressful academic career.

But now it was only a week away. A week and one exam, an exam that was almost guaranteed to have a question on one of his special interest topics. An exam that even he was sure he could ace.

Only a week.

He’d made it.

He’d actually made it.

The realisation startled a laugh out of him. A grin spread across his face and he scratched idly at the back of his head, really letting it sink in. After all of his worries, all of his fears about failing and not living up to what people expected of him, not living up to what he expected of _himself_ − here he was.

He actually did it.

Another laugh, less startled more… relieved. He raked his hands down his face, messed up his hair as he ran his hands through it, and let himself just _grin_. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d be flapping his hands. Instead, he let himself wiggle his hips, a positive buzz travelling through him.

“Mm, hey− wiggler, hey,” A hand patted at his back clumsily, suddenly reminding Wash of the bed’s other occupants and making him curse, stilling his hips quickly, “Hey now I didn’t say stop.”

“Sorry,” Wash said, turning back to look at Tucker with an awkward smile, “I uh− forgot you were there.”

“Wow, rude,” Tucker said through a yawn. He beckoned for Wash to come closer, lay back down, and Wash complied. It took a few moments of shuffling about to get comfortable again, but soon enough Tucker was laid with his head on Wash’s shoulder and Wash’s arm around him. Caboose had, reliably, almost immediately snuggled back up to Wash’s other side, “What’s got you all wiggly?”

“It’s… silly,” Wash said, nuzzling the top of his head. He idly played with his hair, enjoying the sensation it gave, “Just… something dawned on me, I guess.”

Tucker raised a brow, without even opening his eyes, “Were you having a five am existential crisis again?”

Wash chuckled, “No, no− well, not strictly. I just… I realised that I made it. To the end of the school year, I mean.”

“Hell yeah you did,” Tucker was clearly still half asleep, but the grin in his voice was just as evident as the tiredness, “You fuckin’ kicked university’s ass, that’s what you did.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Wash said through a laugh, kissing his forehead, “That title goes to you, mister ‘I got more 1:1s than I did 2:1s and all with a kid to look after’.”

“I am _not_ gonna argue with that.”

There was a moment’s silence, and for a moment Wash thought Tucker had fallen back to sleep, until he heard a yawn and Tucker peered up at him through one open eye.

“I’m proud of you, dude. You started letting us help you. Think you needed that.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” Wash mimicked, earning a chuckle from the other man. And a playful smack.

“You’ve helped us too. Don’t argue with that either, mm’kay?”

“I’ll… try not to.”

“Damn right you will.”

Another pause, then:

“And Wash?”

“Yeah?”

“Go the fuck to sleep.”

Wash laughed, burying Tucker’s face against his shoulder as half-hearted punishment for the remark, before kissing the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Lavernius.”


	10. Unitize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the summer holidays, their first year of university is over, and it’s time for a new status quo. With Tucker’s lease expiring he moves in with Wash’s family for the summer, and as he settles it’s time for Caboose to pay a visit too. A little test run of domesticity, if you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of three chapters set during the summer break! And also has beaten out chapter 8 for the longest chapter!
> 
> _Warnings:_ Mild transphobia; References/Implied Sexual content

“Hey! Lav! Where does this like− jug thing with the blades in go?”

Tucker paused, mid-shirt folding, “…What?”

“Next to the microwave!”

“You mean the blender? In the box with the other kitchen appliances, Charles! Where the fuck else?” He listened out for a response, catching only a quiet ‘alright alright, jeeze’ from downstairs. With a roll of his eyes he returned to folding the shirt he was holding, only to pause again when he saw the look Wash was giving him, “What?”

“ _Lav_?”

Tucker groaned, finishing folding the shirt in a slight huff and flopping it down into the case.

“It’s his new way of not deadnaming me, apparently. Technically, it’s working,” He grabbed another shirt, shaking it out vigorously before starting to fold it−only to realise he was doing it wrong, and have to start again, “But−ugh, fucking shirt−he didn’t exactly _ask_ to y’know, start calling me by a nickname no one has _ever_ used before, like−fucking, goddamn shirt−instead of, y’know, _learning to use my name_ but hey!”

As he failed to fold the shirt right for the fourth time in a row he groaned and dropped his hands in frustration. Moments later a hand touched his arm, and he glanced at Wash to see him giving him a worried look and holding out a hand. With a huff, Tucker handed the shirt to him and started re-arranging the case instead.

“Tucker, if it’s bothering you then you should tell him,” He said, laying the shirt down by Tucker’s hands within seconds. Tucker only sighed, shook his head, “Parent problem?”

“If I tell him to stop, he’ll let it slip back home. And then, next time I see him, I’ll hear all about how mom’s said that well, he’s _trying_ and ‘oh Lavender you can’t expect us to adjust so _quickly_ especially when you _dared_ to have a _baby_ ’ and−” Tucker cut himself off, shook his head, “Sorry. It’s just… not worth the hassle. At least he isn’t deadnaming me.”

“I suppose but… I wish you could say something, but I understand. Well, no, I mean− I don’t pretend to understand but−”

Tucker rolled his eyes, kicking Wash lightly in the hip. You could see the oncoming self-perpetuating cycle of explaining himself from a mile away, and if he could help it Tucker wasn’t going to let that downward spiral start. Luckily the kick did its job of making Wash stop mid-sentence and look at him, and upon doing so he was set with a look.

“Wash. I know what you mean. Calm down.”

Another look, this time for Wash opening his mouth to continue. Tucker jumped back up to his feet, a loud bang echoing through the floor into the front room below, and hip-checked him. He snorted when Wash barely kept himself on his feet.

“C’mon, I’d like to actually finish this packing _sometime_ today,” He said, grabbing something else from the pile of clothes stacked on the bed. Wash shook his head, shoving Tucker’s shoulder for his trouble, before also returning to folding things, “I have _way_ more clothes than I thought I did.”

“Half of these _are_ Junior’s.”

“…Fair point.”

Packing the last of the two Tuckers’ clothes, shoes, and other such things into the case didn’t take long once they really buckled down and got to work. Getting the case down the narrow staircase wasn’t easy, though, probably taking at least a quarter of the time it took to pack it in the first place. When, finally, it was on the floor in the living room the two men all but collapsed back onto the sofa, only for a disturbing squeaking sound to pierce the air as someone landed on a toy. The laugh that followed was breathless, the toy grabbed and tossed over into a box alongside Junior’s other toys.

“Y’know, Caboose and his super strength would be _really_ handy right now,” Tucker said with a sigh, slumping dramatically over Wash’s lap, “This shit would be _effortless_ for him, and I wouldn’t have to sacrifice wearing my binder ‘ _for my health_ ’,” A dramatic hand flourish concluded his statement, nearly hitting Wash in the face.

As if on cue, Palomo walked into the room with a heavy-looking cardboard box from the kitchen, followed shortly after by another boy around the same age. Said boy was looking at Palomo with an eyebrow raised, his arms folded across his chest.

“Struggling, Palomo?”

“Nope! Doing fine! Totally fine! I got this!” Palomo said, with a face that looked like he’d pulled something. With his legs spread ridiculously wide he walked to a collection of other cardboard boxes and−with great effort−finally put the box down, “Whew! See! Totally fine!”

“Yeah, sure. Well, saved me from lifting the damn thing so… Not complaining,” The other boy said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Lazy.”

“I have literally done more than you have today. Do I have to remind you this is _your_ brother’s house or…?”

“Probably have to remind him of the brother part,” Tucker mumbled. Wash gave him a sympathetic look, kissing his forehead before turning his attention to the two teens.

“We appreciate the help, Antoine. But you’re still welcome to go home at any time, we did only ask Charles, after all,” He said, gesturing vaguely. Antoine just shrugged, “The option’s there. Is the kitchen finished now, Charles?”

“Huh?” Palomo looked up from his phone, locking it quickly and shoving it back in his pocket, “Uh, yeah. Totally cleared out.”

“Guess all that’s left to do is wait for your mom to come back huh?” Tucker said, looking up at Wash, “So we can just pack up the car, go get Junior from Andersmith, and finally get outta this place.”

Wash nodded, glancing across the room at the clock on the wall, “She’s due any time now, and mom tends to be very punctual so I doubt we’ll be waiting l−”

A horn sounded from outside, jolting Wash and making him chuckle awkwardly.

“−long. Well, that’ll be her.”

Tucker grunted, pushing himself up from Wash’s lap, “Palomo, go let her in. Try not to say anything offensive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Palomo said with a huff. Tucker raised a brow. Palomo just stared back.

“Oh just− go, go on.”

Palomo made a face, but ducked out of the room anyway− only to pop his head back around the door after not even ten seconds had passed.

“Oh and if you’re going to Andersmith’s, tell Katie hi for me?”

Tucker gave him an incredulous look, shooing him out of the room. When he was gone he gave his boyfriend and his brother’s friend a look too, just to check he wasn’t being unreasonable. Wash only chuckled and shook his head, whilst Antoine shrugged and stood straight.

“I’ve _tried_ to tell him she’s got a girlfriend, but… Dude’s in denial.”

A rush of warm air filled the previously fan-chilled house when the front door opened, making everyone in the room groan. Tucker jumped up to his feet, tugging up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his forehead and then electing to just tie it up at the front so that his abdomen was exposed. Meanwhile Wash looked at his own clothes and sighed, rolling his jeans up to his knees.

“Shut up,” He said, catching the grin on Tucker’s face before it had even formed.

Tucker held up his hands, “Didn’t say a word.”

“David?” A voice then came from the hallway.

“Front room, mom!” Wash called back, giving Tucker a look−‘you were going to say something don’t even try to lie’−and a quick kiss. Tucker rolled his eyes, elbowing him in the side. He quickly slid over to peer out into the hallway.

“In here Mrs. Washington-Chae!” He said with a wave, catching the attention of the Korean woman−probably just an inch or so shorter than her son−in the hallway.

“Oh there you are,” She said, blowing a strand of hair from her face and walking over, “Lavernius, I told you yesterday, Jina is _fine!_ ”

“Oh, uh, right,” Tucker said, chuckling awkwardly, “Sorry, Jina.”

Jina shook her head, waving a dismissive hand and folding her arms over her chest. She seemed to be surveying the room.

“You sure have a lot of boxes,” She said, taking in the piles of various sized boxes dotted around, “Which is the heaviest?”

“Uh, probably the one with flat-pack furniture from Junior’s room in?” Tucker said, gesturing vaguely at the largest box, “It’s got like his crib and some other shit in. I uh, didn’t still have the original boxes or it’d all be separated out.”

“Oh that isn’t an issue don’t worry,” Jina rolled up the sleeves of her flowery summer-blouse, walking over to the pile of boxes and lifting a couple of the smaller ones away.

“I’m sure that Bitters and I can manage that, ma’am!” Palomo said, appearing back in the room suddenly and making Wash jump out of his skin. Tucker snickered at that, “We are strong, able-bodied young men, after all.”

“Palomo, I have a prosthetic leg.”

“…Oh, shit.”

“I mean I could lift it. But I’m not able-bodied dude.”

Tucker groaned, dragging his hands down his face. Now it was Wash’s turn to laugh under his breath.

“Oh well then you can grab the other boxes I just put aside,” Jina said, disregarding the conversation entirely as she crouched down and grabbed the box. She straightened her legs with perfect form, lifting the box from the ground effortlessly, and nodded towards the door, “David, sojunghan, mind getting the front door for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Wash said, ducking out of the room with his mother hot on his heels.

Palomo stood with wide eyes and a slack jaw, prompting Bitters to snap his fingers in his face until he came back to the world of the living. He began to stumble over something that mostly consisted of the words ‘but’, ‘how’ and ‘what’ that had Tucker rolling his eyes as he strolled over, grabbed a box, and walked out of the room.

“Gonna put him out of his misery or…?” Wash asked as he came to the door, standing in such a way that Tucker had to hold the box above his head and pass sideways to get through. He may have stolen a quick kiss. Maybe.

“Nah. I got to have the embarrassing ‘I thought you said your dad was ex-military?’−” Then, in his best Wash impression, “−‘I never said my dad’ moment yesterday, Palomo gets to put his foot in it all on his own too.”

“Fair enough.”

As many boxes as there were, it didn’t take very long to pack up the boot of the old Range Rover that Jina had driven to the house. With the boot being as spacious as it was it was only a matter of slotting things together like some convoluted game of _Tetris_ , until it was packed full and they could swing the boot shut.

“That everything?” Jina asked, brushing her somewhat dusty hands off on her jeans.

Tucker nodded, “Everything except Junior’s car seat. Wash you wanna grab that whilst I go run and put on my binder?”

“Sure,” Wash replied, Tucker giving him a grateful look and darting inside. He followed a second later, grabbing the car seat from the front room and bringing it back out to the car. There he helped his mom get it set up in the back seat, by now very familiar with how to do so.

Jina watched him with a proud look in her eye more than she helped him.

“Look at you,” She said, leaning against the car’s doorframe, a fond smile on her face, “My baby boy, all grown up. Just last year you were _so worried_ , but look at you now! A boyfriend, a _baby_.”

“A boyfriend and a datefriend, mom,” Wash said with an awkward smile, standing up straight and barely avoiding knocking his head.

“Oh, right. Sorry, sojunghan, still getting used to this whole polygamy thing.”

Wash chuckled, “Well, poly _amory_. We’re not married.”

“Ohhh,” Jina said, trailing off into a quiet laugh. Wash’s chuckle became a laugh of his own, his head ducking as his mother reached up to ruffle his hair, earning her a quiet whine of ‘ _eomeoni_ ’.

It wasn’t long after that Tucker came back, shooing his the two younger teenagers out of the house and locking it up behind him. He had a brief conversation with his brother as he did so, ending when he dumped the keys through the letterbox and−somewhat playfully, Wash assumed−shooed the two to send them on their way. With that he clambered into the back of the car and buckled up, telling Jina Andersmith’s address and sitting back.

Andersmith’s wasn’t far to drive, and soon enough Junior had joined his father in the back of the car. And no, Tucker decidedly did _not_ tell Andersmith’s step-sister, Katie, that his brother had said hi. Which he let Wash know as he was buckling Junior into his seat and handing him his latest favourite toy to chew on.

Finally it was time to head off on the final stretch of their journey, the hour plus long drive to Wash’s house. It wasn’t an uncomfortable drive by any stretch of the imagination, after spending the previous afternoon and evening with Wash and his parents Tucker was already comfortable. Jina spent most of the time continuing to tell him embarrassing stories about Wash as a young child, or asking him questions about Junior−who had been at Andersmith’s during the previous night. If anyone came out of that car ride feeling uncomfortable it was Wash, and that was nothing more than the usual embarrassing parent effect.

“So, when’s your ah−datefriend−?” Jina glanced to Wash, continuing once she received a nod, “−coming again?”

They were−or rather, Jina was−carrying the last of the boxes into the house. Behind them, the car boot slammed shut. Wash glanced back to see Tucker pulling his suitcase behind him with one hand, whilst holding Junior on his hip with the other. Smiled at the sight.

“Tomorrow morning,” He said, looking back to his mom. He held the door open for her, let her dump the last box in the hallway, “You’ll have time to get to know her before you guys go away, don’t worry.”

“Her, now?”

Wash chuckled, patted the lump in his pocket, “We get texts every morning, about pronouns. Today’s a ‘she’ day.”

“Oh this is so very confusing,” Jina said, reaching out to take the the suitcase from Tucker.

“Just take it a face value, it’s a lot simpler than it seems, promise.”

“Wow, I have a _lot_ more shit than I thought I did,” Tucker said, hiking Junior up his hip. The pile of boxes definitely looked a lot bigger, sat in the small hallway.

“Oh don’t worry, there’s plenty of room in the garage and it’s not like we’re using it,” Jina waved a dismissive hand, which then fell to her hip as she examined the pile, “We just need the little guy’s crib, and your suitcase. Let’s get the crib’s pieces upstairs then I’ll start moving everything else to the garage whilst you fit it back together in the spare room, okay?”

So that was what they did. Wash and Tucker found themselves in the oddly domestic situation that was arguing over how to fit together an _IKEA_ cot, pieces scattered around them and instructions spread out between them. Junior sat off to the side, chewing on his toy and watching their back-and-forth like a tennis match−looking from Wash, to Tucker, to Wash, to Tucker. Apparently their argument was rather entertaining.

By the time they even had the cot half put together, they could smell food being cooked downstairs. Resolving to keep working until Jina called them downstairs, they continued trying to figure out the elusive ways of the _GONATT_ until there was a knock on the doorframe. Stood there was Wash’s father, a tray of food in his hands.

“Figured you boys would be ready for food by now.”

“Oh, thanks dad,” Wash said, getting up and taking the tray, “I didn’t hear you get back.”

“We were probably arguing about what pieces go into what holes,” Tucker said dryly, looking at the three-quarters constructed cot. Only when Wash’s eyes widened and the tips of his ears went red did Tucker realise what that sounded like, and it was all he could to do suppress a snicker.

“Good old IKEA furniture, huh? Want me to take a look whilst you guys eat?”

“Uh, no offence dad but I think you’d make it worse. Remember last time?” Wash said, ignoring the fact his face was still warm. When his father cringed, he chuckled, “Yeah, see what I mean?”

“I’ll call your mother up.”

He ducked out of the room, leaving Wash and Tucker in a brief, somewhat awkward silence as they both stared at each other out of the corner of their eye. Until, finally, Tucker snorted and the pair started to laugh.

“Bow chicka bow wow,” Tucker said between laughs, earning himself a playful shove from Wash−despite the fact it made him laugh harder.

“You’re _terrible_.”

“Hey, I didn’t even _notice_! You brought this on yourself.”

“Brought what on himself?”

Both boys went stock still, “Nothing!”

Wash’s dad raised a brow, “Alright… Your mother will be up in a moment to help, David. I’d start eating those burgers before they get cold.”

“Oh, right.”

He put the tray down between himself and Tucker, grabbing one of the plates whilst Tucker took the other and started to eat. The room fell into relative silence, Wash’s dad just standing near the door and the others’ mouths full. Until, at least, Junior apparently took interest in what his father was doing; he pulled himself up to his feet and pottered over, peering over Tucker’s shoulder. And starting to chew on his shirt.

“Ew, Junior,” Tucker pulled a face, swallowing the bite of burger and peering back at Junior. Junior just looked up at him with innocent eyes, whilst still chewing on his shirt, “Look at this kid. Shameless.”

“This the little guy?” Wash’s dad asked.

“No, Jacob, he’s someone else’s baby,” Jina said, appearing behind him and kissing his cheek. Jacob chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. It was in that moment that Tucker saw the most resemblance between Wash and his dad; apparently he’d inherited mannerisms, not looks, “Lavernius just left his baby at the babysitters and we picked up another on the way back.”

“Silly question, silly question,” Jacob said, holding up his hands.

Jina shook her head, rolling her eyes with a smile. Walking over she grabbed the instructions from between Tucker and Wash, immediately setting about figuring out what was left to do.

Meanwhile Junior finally lost interest in his dad’s shirt, opting instead to clamber into his lap and grab one of Wash’s hands. Almost immediately he started to chew on one of his fingers.

“Thanks, Junior,” Wash said, shaking his head. Still, he didn’t pull his hand away, “Is he teething or what?”

“No that’s the thing, he just likes to chew shit. Even when his teeth aren’t coming in,” Tucker said, finishing his burger and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He coaxed Wash’s finger from his son’s jaws and gave him one of his toys, which he quickly sank his teeth back into, “He’s just a little monster who likes to bite stuff.”

“He looks a lot like you,” Jacob pointed out.

“We get that a lot,” Tucker said, grinning, “He’s my mini-me.”

“Your mini-me isn’t going to have a cot to sleep in tonight, at this rate. What did you boys _do_ to this thing?” Jina said, looking between the instructions; the remaining pieces; and the partially constructed cot.

Wash and Tucker shared a glance and an awkward chuckle.

Hours later, with Junior fast asleep and Jina and Jacob downstairs, the two students retreated upstairs. With a hefty thump, that sent the pillows flying and messed up the already messy sheets, Tucker collapsed backwards onto Wash’s bed. Closing the door behind him, Wash turned and folded his arms loosely, giving his boyfriend a look. Tucker, in response, simply grinned.

“We _allowed_ to have the door closed?” He asked, sitting up and blowing his hair from his face.

“Yes, we are,” Wash said, undoing and kicking off his jeans as he walked over. He grabbed his PJ pants from the foot of the bed, where they’d fallen, “Because we’re not sixteen years old, and my parents trust me. That and they probably haven’t even _considered_ that we’d be doing what you’re thinking about, anyway.”

Tucker held up his hands, “Guilty as charged.”

“Have you even gotten your PJs out of the suitcase yet?” Pulling his PJ top from under his pillow he peered back over his shoulder at Tucker, his expression obscured moments later as he pulled it on.

“Uh… good question.”

Hopping up from the bed Tucker headed over to the chest of drawers, three drawers of which had been dedicated to his stuff whilst he was staying here with the Washington-Chae’s. Most of his clothes were still in his suitcase, only a few having been pulled out in his hunt for some of Junior’s earlier in the evening, but there was a chance his PJs had been− ah, nope. No PJs.

“Fuck.”

“That a no, huh?”

Tucker sighed, “Time to dive back into the case of death.”

“Well now that’s a little bit dramatic,” Wash said, clambering onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. Tucker gave a dramatic ‘woe is me’ motion, collapsing to his knees by the case in the corner and starting to dig through it, “I still can’t believe you didn’t bring any yesterday.”

“Well we’ve both slept in the other’s bed with just boxers and the day’s t-shirt now, so,” Tucker shrugged. He groaned as he moved layers of clothes at a time, then had to fight a very stubborn set of PJs that didn’t want to be pulled out, until−

−finally they gave, and Tucker fell flat on his back.

Wash muffled a laugh, earning himself a glare and a stuck out tongue. Which, in turn, were quickly hidden by Tucker pulling his binder over his head. Wash let his attention wander then, grabbing his phone from the side and checking his texts; at least, until he heard:

“…Wash? I’m stuck.”

This time he didn’t even bother to muffle his laughter, slipping off the bed and going to help him out of his predicament.

Finally, after a few more minutes of fumbling, the two got themselves comfortable. Tucker flopped over Wash’s lap almost immediately, all but winding him as he lounged back against the headboard. They slipped into a comfortable silence after that, Tucker just closing his eyes and relaxing whilst Wash busied himself with his phone. There were sprinklings of chatter here and there, Wash filling Tucker in on Caboose’s latest text about when she’d be coming the next day or Tucker making some random comment, but otherwise it was silent.

Until, after a while, Tucker’s signature snoring filled the room. With an amused smile Wash put down his phone, carefully adjusted Tucker’s position, and laid behind him with his arms around his waist. Tucker leant into his presence immediately, mumbling in his sleep between snores, and Wash’s smile grew a little.

He wouldn’t fall asleep until four in the morning, but he was comfortable.

* * *

Caboose arrived during breakfast the next morning, preceded only by a text simply reading ‘10:00am! She today!’−but in all capitals letters, and with a lot more exclamation points. Tucker was fighting a losing battle with a very stubborn Junior who did _not_ want to eat his breakfast, whilst Wash watched on amused behind his morning coffee. The doorbell rang at 10:02, disturbing the relative silence of the house and catching Jina as she was on her way down the stairs.

“That’ll be Caboose!” Wash called, quickly trying to finish his sip of coffee and get up at the same time, “I can get it mom!”

Jina’s voice was accompanied by the sound of the door unlocking, “It’s alright David, I’ve got it!”

Wash groaned a little, opting to go to the hallway anyway. He was immediately greeted by the sight of Caboose, standing, bags around her feet, with her hands flapping at waist level and greeting his mother excitedly. She was in a very nice summer dress, her hair braided nicely.

The sight made Wash smile. It had been a couple weeks since they’d seen each other, face to face; seeing her again, and seeing her looking as happy as ever, was oddly relieving.

Caboose spotted him, after a moment, and her face lit up, “Wash!”

Jina had to step aside as Caboose hurried past her to envelope Wash in a tight hug, which Wash was all too happy to return. He buried his face against her shoulder, smiling at the familiar embrace and the warmth of it.

“Hey Mikey.”

“I have missed you very much,” Caboose said, kissing Wash’s cheek and squeezing him tighter, “Where are the big and little Tuckers?”

“In the kitchen,” Wash replied, voice muffled by her shoulder, “Junior doesn’t want to eat his food.”

“Tiny Tucker is silly,” She said, shaking her head and letting Wash go. Her hand lingered behind his head, fiddling with his hair, a smile on her face, “You are still very cute.”

Heat rushed to Wash’s cheeks, and he leant up to give her a quick kiss. When he pulled away, his mother was looking at them with a look he couldn’t quite decipher and, for a moment, he was almost nervous−until she caught his eye and gave him a smile. With that, he relaxed; squeezing Caboose’s hand in his, and nodding towards the kitchen.

“Kitchen’s through there. Go see Tucker and Junior; I’ll grab your bags.”

Returning the squeeze, Caboose nodded. She was walking on the tips of her toes with a spring in her step as she walked through to the kitchen; her face lit up again as soon as she saw Tucker, a grin on his face and beckoning her over. Crossing the room she wrapped him up in a tight hug, smothering him in her arms and against her chest. A laugh was muffled between them, Tucker’s arms wrapping tight around her in return.

“Well hey there beautiful.”

“Yes that is me.”

Tucker laughed again, pulling back from the hug just enough to look up at her, “Damn right it is. Missed ya, Mikey.”

“I have missed you also very much,” Caboose said, nuzzling the top of his head and pressing a kiss to his hair. She gave him one more _big_ squeeze before letting go. Now she crouched next to Junior’s high chair, catching the toddler’s attention immediately−and a nose boop. Her face lit up, “He still likes me.”

“Course he does, Caboose,” Tucker brushed a strand of hair back from her face with one hand, attempting to feed Junior his food with the other, “He doesn’t, however, like this yoghurt today. Apparently. Despite it being his favourite like, two days ago.”

Narrowing his eyes he looked pointedly at Junior, who simply looked back with an innocent expression.

“Oh I know you know what you’re doing, kiddo.”

“Still refusing to eat it?” Came Wash’s voice from behind them. He dropped into the seat next to Tucker a moment later, picking up his coffee. Tucker gave him a look, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What if I try to make the little Tucker eat?” Caboose suggested, raising her hand.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Tucker said, shrugging and passing the spoon to Caboose.

Caboose shook her head at him and tutted, “Do not be silly Tucker that would not help! And also hurt.”

“Oh− go on, give it a shot Caboose.”

And so she did. And, both to Tucker’s surprise and not, all Caboose had to do was stick her tongue out at Junior and he both returned the gesture and opened his mouth for the spoon.

“…Well now that’s just cheating.”

Caboose just grinned.

Breakfast was over soon enough, with Caboose finishing up the job of feeding Junior−not only with ease, but whilst talking animatedly at Wash’s parents. Wash was relieved to see that Caboose got on with his parents just as easily as Tucker had, charming them quickly with her up-beat attitude and talkative nature. Alongside, no doubt, the very affectionate behaviour she displayed around her two boyfriends at every opportunity. Wash knew he’d caught the two of them sharing glances and smiles when Caboose would casually kiss Tucker or his cheek; or ruffle Wash’s hair; or throw her arms around either of them.

He also knew that they were probably still very, very confused about many things. But, well, they were trying. He was grateful for that.

It was around midday that Jina and Jacob were finally ready to leave on their trip−a week-long stay down in London, where one of Wash’s sisters lived. Whilst they claimed that it had been planned for the very same week that Tucker moved in for the summer and Caboose made her first visit, Wash was more than a little sceptical. With how bad his memory could get he didn’t have any proof, but he was _sure_ their trip had been organised for another week before the arrangements for Tucker’s stay had been sorted.

But, well, he couldn’t prove it. And really, it wasn’t as if he was _complaining_ about a week alone with his datefriends. He was just a little bit confused, and maybe a little embarrassed, by the implications.

Either way, Jacob and Jina left with a final rattling off of some basic house-rules; tips and tricks; and ‘I love you’s just after half twelve in the afternoon, leaving the three students to their own devices. Wash waved them goodbye, locked the door behind him, and re-joined his datefriends in the front room.

When he came back, Tucker looked up, “They gone?”

“Yeah, they’re gone,” Wash replied, sitting down on the sofa. From there he could look upon Tucker and Caboose both sat with Junior and his toys, which had already covered most of the living room floor, “Dad’ll text me when they get there.”

“And you say this trip _totally_ wasn’t organised this week on purpose, huh?” Tucker raised a brow, only for the expression to be knocked off his face when Junior tossed a toy at him, “ _Kiddo_.”

“ _They_ say that,” Wash corrected, chuckling a little, “But, hey−guess we’re getting a test run of living alone together.”

“I do not know how to cook,” Caboose said, raising her hand, “I get distracted and fire happens.”

“We all have things we can’t do Caboose, don’t worry,” Wash said, nudging her leg with a foot.

“Like that fact that you don’t know how to make a bed?” Tucker said, a grin on his face, “Despite having like, an ex-military mom who runs a super tight ship of a house?”

Wash groaned, “Yes, like that.”

Tucker’s grin just grew.

It wasn’t hard for them to slip into a familiar routine, hardly strangers and well-used to each other’s company, though most of the first day was spent doing very little. Tucker made them all lunch, teaching Wash how to use an actual oven as he did so, whilst Caboose sat with Junior watching his favourite show. Junior managed to explore every inch of the house, whether his guardians wanted him to or not; his tour ended when he hid under the blankets in Wash’s room for too long, perfectly content to just sit there rocking and giggling as they searched for him for almost an hour. Wash started them off on a _Netflix_ binge of _Doctor Who_ that paused when it was time for Junior to go to bed, but only ended at nearly one in the morning when Caboose all but fell asleep on Tucker’s head.

It was damn near impossible to fit the three of them in Wash’s bed, but they gave it a shot. Wash only fell out once, maybe twice. The point being, they’d make it work.

Day two started with Junior babbling into the baby-monitor, apparently bored of being stuck sat alone in his crib and so refusing to let them have a lie-in. Caboose was the first one to drag themself out of bed, greeting their datefriends when they finally dragged themselves through to the spare room with a bright smile, Junior on their hip and a declaration of ‘they!’. They’d go on to bounce Junior on their hip as Tucker made his breakfast and Wash made some for the rest of them.

Everything about it felt natural. It was different to when they’d wake up after staying at Wash’s flat, when Junior was never around and there was no room to move. Instead they had space; had time; and, most importantly, had Junior. All four of them were there; they were _together_.

Though when he made a comment to this effect, Tucker called him ‘a sappy shit’. But he did so whilst grinning, so Wash figured he agreed with the sentiment anyway.

Whilst the morning continued with watching terrible morning TV and huddling up on the couch for a while during breakfast, that didn’t last long once it was done. Tucker had both Caboose and Wash on their feet and doing chores about the house, citing that they’d have to get used to doing this almost daily once they moved in together for real in September. Of course that didn’t mean that he didn’t complain the whole time too, oh no, it just meant he was dragging the others along with him.

Among those chores was Wash’s laundry. Or, as Tucker called it, ‘the abomination’.

“The pile was not _that_ bad, Tucker.”

“The pile _was_ that bad, Wash,” Tucker mimicked, folding another piece of clothing, “I don’t know how you’ve made so much dirty laundry when you’ve only been home, what? Like a month tops?”

“There are two duvet sets in here; that makes it look worse than it is.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Wash rolled his eyes, “Some of it may have come back from uni with me. Maybe.”

“Wow, Wash.”

“I did not like the washing machines on campus very much,” Caboose piped in, sat with Junior on their lap as they rolled together some socks. Junior was doing his part too−well, if sitting with one of Wash’s blankets over his head and turning him into a ‘blanket alien’ counted as doing something, “They were complicated. And stinky.”

“Exactly. Also, there’s this thing called executive dysfunction Tucker,” Wash’s voice gained a distinct attitude, his individual brand of sarcastic humour, “You might have heard of it.”

“Oh look at that, it’s the return of Agent Sarc-ington, the most sarcastic alien fighting space agent this side of the galaxy,” Tucker tossed a pair of boxers at Wash, which he floundered to catch and then pull off his face.

Beneath his blanket costume, Junior sat up straight. He tilted his head back to face in Caboose’s general direction; reached his arms up, stretching the blanket; and made a weird noise.

Suddenly Caboose _threw_ their arms in the air, tossing the pair of socks they were folding together up as they did so, and gasped exaggeratedly.

“Oh no! The alien monster is back!” They said, cowering back in play-fear as Junior stood up on their lap and turned, monster-hands up and draped by the blanket. He made another weird noise, which sounded something like a growl, and made clawing motions as they leapt at Caboose, “Aaaaah! Help!”

Tucker grinned, “Oh no, Mikey’s under attack! Agent Washington, what do we _do_?”

Wash chuckled, shaking his head as he laid down the half-folded shirt in his hands. He scanned the room, the pile of dried laundry, and his own grin grew. Grabbing the corner of what he was after, he looked to Tucker.

“Quickly, we have to catch him in this! Take a side!”

He tossed the other end of the duvet cover to Tucker, who caught it with ease. Lunging forwards they ensnared Junior beneath it, dragging him from Caboose into captivity between the two of them as he started to squeal and laugh and fight with all his little alien might to escape. But they had him.

“We’ve got him!” Wash said through laughter, fighting with Tucker to keep Junior contained, “Now for the final attack!”

Spinning the duvet over they opened it, revealing a very giggly Junior who had now shed his blanket cover, and was sitting directly in the middle of the suspended sheet. With nothing more than a ‘1… 2… 3!’ Tucker and Wash shook the sheets and bounced him in the air, making him laugh and squeal. Again, again, again−

Laundry took about an hour longer than it should have, in the end.

Morning three was much like the previous morning. Junior refused to let them have a lie-in, despite how−in Tucker’s words, earning him a groan−‘tuckered out’ he’d been after the previous day. Everyone emerged from upstairs still in their pyjamas, ready to start the day afresh with some lazy breakfast.

Until Tucker opened the fridge, looking in it himself for the first time, and suddenly they were on a mission to the local supermarket.

“I can’t believe how little shit you had in that fridge,” Tucker said, putting another item into the trolley, “Or like, the rest of the kitchen. I didn’t notice because you just kept fuckin’ handing me stuff!”

“Mom and Dad didn’t have chance to go shopping before this week like they planned to, and, well−basically they left money for take-out instead, for when we ran out,” Wash said, reorganising the trolley every time Tucker put something else in haphazardly. Caboose was pushing it, pulling funny faces with Junior as they did so. And occasionally getting kicked in the stomach, as Junior swung his legs.

Wash and Tucker both smiled every time they looked at them.

“Dude I like take-out as much as the next guy, but we’re not eating take-out _all week_ ,” Tucker said, giving Wash a pointed look. And then pausing, shaking his head, “Pre-Junior me would not fucking _believe_ I just said that.”

“Oh dear Tucker is having a moment,” Caboose said, with a sombre shake of their head, “The only cure is to give him a kiss and tell him he is good as he is now.”

“Wow, Caboose. That’s just cheesy,” Tucker said, despite walking over and accepting the kiss anyway.

By the time they reached the checkout they had a decent haul of food, as well as a few extras, and Junior was sat in the front cradling a bag of crisps−“It’s one of those weird things he loves to do, he likes making them crunch by hugging it”−whilst his guardians started to unpack the trolley.

He was still holding the bag when they returned to Wash’s house, proudly waddling through the house to the kitchen where he stretched up onto the very tip of his toes to place the bag on the counter. When the adults started to unpack the rest of the bags he did his very best to help, transporting things from one side of the kitchen to the other and at one point clambering into a cupboard to put something away and hiding there for the next five minutes.

Apparently that was another thing he did. Tucker said he liked it in there; sometimes he’d even make nests of blankets and toys. He’d cleared out a cupboard back in his old house just for that purpose.

Lunch came and went. Huddled up in the living room they passed much of the rest of the day talking about the upcoming months, or taking turns playing with Junior on the floor. When Junior, apparently drained from their trip out and helping out in the kitchen, began to dose and had to be taken to bed early they migrated to the floor properly.

For a while they just played video games; or, well, Wash played video games whilst Tucker and Caboose back-seat gamed. Or distracted him, playfully kissing everywhere from his cheek to his lips to his neck−but he kept focus, even though his face went red. The gaming ended only when, at some point, Tucker made an offhand remark about a show he liked, a show that both Wash and Caboose revealed they had never seen before.

Tucker looked almost offended.

“You guys haven’t watched _Voltron_? Okay give me the remote, we’re watching it all. Right now.”

So that was what they did. Tangled up together, Tucker draped over Caboose’s lap and Wash leant against his side, they sat back and let the show play. Tucker even caved and ordered take-out, rather than get up and make food which would ‘waste time’. As it turned out Caboose and Wash enjoyed the show almost as much as Tucker did, with Caboose having a particular fondness for Hunk and Pidge whilst Wash was a fan of Shiro. Tucker didn’t seem surprised by either revelation.

When it finished, and _Netflix_ defaulted back to the homepage, it was fairly late. For a while they sat talking about the show, until the conversation petered out as they got tired. No one felt like moving, so they just stayed sat there, tangled together and just enjoying each other’s company. Caboose’s fingers drew patterns on Tucker’s hip, just under his shirt. Tucker idly played with his hair, his thumb brushing against his cheek. Wash’s head rested on Caboose’s shoulder and he watched them with a tired smile, playing with the hem of Caboose’s shirt.

The closeness of it felt so natural.

In the end they didn’t make it upstairs until three in the morning, having all but dosed off on the floor of the living room until then. Junior would have to let his guardians sleep in, just this once.

It was around midday when they began to stir.

“Mm, what time is it?” Tucker mumbled, not even raising his head from where it was buried in Caboose’s chest.

Wash yawned, rubbing his eyes and squinting at his clock radio, “Um. Like… twelve-oh-five.”

“Fuuuck. Mm’kay I’m gonna go let Junior out of his crib−” He dragged himself up, every movement of his body sluggish and reluctant, “−and then I am coming right back to fucking bed. He can occupy himself for like an hour until I’m like. Human again.”

“What are you if you are not human?” Caboose asked, eyes still closed.

“A fuckin’ zombie,” Tucker said, kissing his forehead and then stretching out with a groan, “Be right back.”

True to his word he was back within a few minutes, by which point Wash had sat up enough for Caboose to rest his head on his chest and continue to sleep. Tucker grinned at that, clambering onto the bed and giving the half-asleep Caboose a quick kiss before turning his attention to Wash. Wash leant gladly into the attention, the kiss sleepy and a little clumsy, but nice. At least until Tucker’s lips got a little more incessant, and he idly began fiddling with Wash’s shirt, and−

“Junior’s only in the next room,” Wash reminded him, giving him another quick kiss and holding his arm out, “Come on, you’re still half asleep.”

Tucker pouted, but snuggled back up to his side anyway.

Despite the late start, the day continued pretty much as normal. Rather than breakfast, they worked on lunch. Rather than watching terrible morning TV, they ended up watching terrible afternoon TV. Chores were dismissed for the day. Tucker seemed to be unable to keep his hands to himself−

Or, at least it felt that way. Wash wasn’t sure if that were really true, or if he was simply seeing things where they weren’t. Did Tucker always brush against his arm like that? Did he always wrap his arms around him from behind, around his hips? Did he always steal this many kisses? Was Wash just being a terrible boyfriend who was looking too much into simple affectionate gestures?

Whatever it was, Wash felt much more nervous than he had any right to. He was infinitely grateful for what, he assumed, were Caboose’s accidental interventions−drawing Tucker’s attention away with kisses of his own, or literally sweeping him off his feet to go play a game with Junior. Tucker didn’t seem bothered, Wash’s excuses for his own interruptions of kisses and touches has been accepted graciously all day and Caboose’s interventions were no different, but Wash felt… bad.

Everything came to a head that night.

Junior had been in bed for a few hours. Rather than relaxing in the living room the three young adults had moved to Wash’s room and were getting changed to lounge around on Wash’s bed, browsing the internet, reading and talking for a couple more hours before going to sleep. Caboose was first to finish, flopping back onto the bed as soon as he did so and stretching out to take up as much space as possible. Wash, on the other hand, simply sat on the edge as he finished pulling on his PJ pants, nudging Caboose’s leg out of the way. Finally there was Tucker, who was currently fighting his binder.

“Fucking thing hates me lately, I swear to god.”

Wash couldn’t help but chuckle a little−mostly at the faces Tucker was pulling. But, finally, after watching him struggle for a good thirty seconds he shook his head and beckoned him over.

“Come here.”

Immediately Tucker’s annoyed expression became a grin, “Oh you that eager to get me undressed, huh?”

Wash gave him a look, “Lavernius.”

Tucker’s grin only grew, but he headed over to Wash anyway. Wash shook his head, gesturing vaguely for him to raise his arms so he could help and going to speak. Only for his words to be immediately swallowed by Tucker’s lips, in a firm but not forceful kiss that made Wash’s face go red and his heart start thumping and his mind start racing and−

He pushed Tucker back in a hurry, eyes clamped shut and his hands on his shoulders as he said all in one breath:

“ _I’m-demisexual-and-I-don’t-know-how-I-feel-about-sex-I’m-sorry_.”

There was a moment of silence. Wash screwed his eyes tightly shut, too scared to open them and look Tucker in the face. At least, until he felt a hand on one of his where it rested on Tucker’s shoulder. Then and only then he forced himself to open his eyes, sharing a rare moment of eye-contact−his eyes were such a deep shade of brown, he never got to appreciate it−with a suddenly very serious looking Tucker. And, when the moment passed, they both opened their mouths at once:

“Tucker, I’m sorry, I−”

“Fuck, Wash, why didn’t you−”

“OKAY! TIME OUT!”

Caboose slashed his arms through the air, shaking his head rapidly and shuffling forward to sit near the edge of the bed. He gently poked Tucker in the shoulder, patting the spot on his other side and not stopping until Tucker sat down. Wash let his eyes fall to the floor as this happened, swallowing hard, feeling eyes on him. But then Caboose’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, tugging him close to his side, and a part of him relaxed.

“Y’know saying time out makes us sound like kids,” Tucker said, though it was more half-hearted than his usual playful jabs.

“I do not care we have to have a time out and we have to do the talking thing because I do not want us to not be on the same book,” Caboose said, jutting out his bottom lip and huffing.

“Same page, Mikey,” Wash corrected gently, nudging his shoulder with his head. His teeth had begun to tug at his cheek, no matter how much he willed them to stop, and he was scratching at his palm agitatedly, “It’s same page.”

“Oh yes that is it. But! That is not the point!” Caboose raised a finger, squeezing Wash closer to his side, “Talking! Now! Go! This is very very important!”

And it was, Wash and Tucker both knew this. This was a long-overdue issue, something that Wash had been purposefully avoiding whilst Tucker simply assumed it would all work out when it came down to the wire. Simply assumed Wash was shy about this stuff, as Wash battled with the fear that Tucker wouldn’t understand.

Really, long-overdue was probably understating it.

“Alright alright, impatient,” Tucker said, smiling a little and elbowing his side. His smile faltered for a moment when his eyes fell on Wash, who was still withdrawn looking and averting his eyes, but he put it back on, “David, hey, look, don’t worry about it okay? It’s not a big deal!”

“But it _is_ a big deal,” Wash said, finally looking up. His nails scratched harder at his palm, “You clearly want sex, Lavernius, and− and it’s not that I’m not attracted to you or to Michael, because I _am._ I just… just…”

He lost his words, cursing himself and covering his face with his hands.

“It is okay Wash, we know you are not very good with speaking thoughts and things,” Caboose said, kissing the top of his head. Wash couldn’t help but chuckle at little at that; he couldn’t say they didn’t know him well.

So he took his time, pausing between words and leaving big breaks as he spoke, “Sometimes it seems appealing. Sex, I mean. But… most of the time there’s just… no real feelings or outright discomfort. I should’ve said something sooner but… just saying no or making an excuse worked, and for some reason that felt like it was easier. Wouldn’t hurt your feelings or− or something.”

“I mean, yeah, you totally should have. But well− fuck me, man, so should I! I feel y’know, comfortable with you guys. And yeah, I like sex. I like sex and I like both of you but− well, fuck,” Tucker chuckled awkwardly, brushing his hair from his face, “I have my own problems with it all, y’know? Somehow I didn’t really think about that. Fuck, dude, we _really_ should have talked about this shouldn’t we?”

It was Caboose who nodded first, “Yes. We are very silly.”

“Silly is an understatement,” Tucker said, shaking his head, “Well. Better late than never?”

“Better late than never,” Wash agreed, clenching his fists to stop the scratching. Things were okay. Things were _okay_ , “So…”

“So. You’re not big on the whole sex thing,” Tucker said, shifting his position so he could offer Wash a hand. Wash took it, lacing their fingers together as he leant against Caboose, and nodded.

“I’m mostly neutral. It’s the… physical aspect, too, more than the emotional. The intimacy is appealing, but not the actual sex,” He explained, sighing slightly, “It’s weird, I know, but−”

Caboose cut him off with a kiss to the head, “Shush, it is not weird it is very okay.”

With a slight smile Wash nudged his shoulder, relaxing into Caboose’s extraordinary warmth and giving Tucker’s hand a squeeze. The urge to chew and scratch was fading.

“I don’t think I’d be opposed to−” He coughed a little, his cheeks flushing red, “− _watching_ , though. Or maybe holding one of you. Something like that.”

Tucker’s face split with a grin, and more heat rushed to Wash’s face.

“Look at you blush! Dude that doesn’t sound bad _at all_ ,” He said, shoving his shoulder playfully with their joined hands, “Mikey?”

“I would like that a lot,” Caboose agreed, grinning.

Wash was pretty sure his face was on fire.

“Okay so like, my turn I guess?” Tucker then said, shrugging a little, “Um, well… Honestly for the most part I’m basically fine with most shit below the waist, actually. Some days not so much but like, ninety percent of the time? Just ask and it’s probably good. No _my_ big problem is my fucking chest. I’d uh, probably rather wear a shirt like… basically always. And like minimal touching. Really half of it comes down to asking and listening, y’know?”

“I am a very good listener,” Caboose said with a nod, earning a chuckle off Tucker.

“Sure are buddy.”

“I am very okay with most things,” He tilted his head thoughtfully, “The bad body feelings come sometimes but it is not very often. Oh! And sometimes it is very over… over…”

“Overwhelming?” Wash offered.

“Yes! That is it! Overwhelming. But it is okay, it isn’t bad. I think it is an autistic thing,” Caboose said, bobbing his head from side to side.

“I can work with that. Especially if you’re around, Wash. Like, you know this shit better than I do,” Tucker said, looking between the two of them, “You’d be able to like, spot it if he can’t say it himself right?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Awesome!” A pause, a grin, “Wait so you’re not a virgin huh, Mikey?”

“Nope!” Caboose beamed proudly, an innocent look that didn’t quite match up with his next words: “I am apparently very good at using my mouth! Do you want me to show you?”

Tucker blinked, “… _Wow_. Michael J. Caboose, you smooth motherfucker.”

“Is that a yes?”

Moments later Caboose was knocked onto his back on the mattress, lips locked in a kiss with Tucker’s, and he figured he had his answer.

Enthusiastic and heated, the kiss held. One of Caboose’s hands gripped Tucker’s hip, as the other cupped the back of his head, whilst Tucker was grasping at the material of Caboose’s shirt. Wash couldn’t deny the return of the heat in his cheeks as he watched them, a warmth in his gut, but not the same warmth he vaguely knew as a desire for sex. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, really, but it hardly mattered−seeing the two together was _good_ , and god, he was glad that finally things had been cleared up.

Sure, there’d be more conversations to come, but this was a good start. A start that should have come a long time ago, really.

However, speaking of other conversations to be had…

“Tucker, binder.”

“ _Wash_ −”

“You’re not fucking up your ribs just to get laid. Binder off, t-shirt on.”

“Goddammit why do you have to be such a caring boyfriend? Fuck you. Or don’t, I guess?”

“Tucker, don’t make me come over there.”

“Oh I’ll make you come over here, bow chicka bow wo−mmhm!”

His signature line was cut short as Caboose pulled him into another kiss, flipping their positions to lightly press Tucker into the bed beneath him. Tucker didn’t have any complaints, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing back gladly, tracing his fingers along Caboose’s spine.

Eventually they’d get him out of his binder, and Caboose would prove his skills. But it wouldn’t be them if there wasn’t a little ridiculousness, first.

* * *

Waking up the next morning was surreal in the best way. Through the drowsy haze of the early morning hours Wash saw as Caboose all but refused to let Tucker out of their embrace to go to Junior, whining and nuzzling against his neck. Saw as Tucker freed himself with laughter and a kiss, escaping to Junior’s room with Caboose hot on his tail, both scrambling to pull on pants as they went. Dosed back off for an extra ten minutes to the sound of their excitement in the next room.

But the truly surreal and yet wonderful moment came when, finally dragging himself out of bed, Wash walked into the kitchen twenty minutes later. When he walked in to the sight of Tucker, in Caboose’s boxers and a baggy shirt, dancing to the morning radio with Junior on his hip. To the sight of Caboose, only in his PJ pants and with his hair in a messy bun, making Wash and Tucker’s morning coffee and singing along. The sight of them together, and happy, and−

It was sappy, sure.

But he’d never felt more at home.


End file.
